Thedas Does Disney
by WitchcraftAndTrickery
Summary: What if Thedas was a bit more musical? What if Thedas was a bit more animated? What if Bioware was run by Walt Disney? A collection of parodies set to Disney songs, crossing Origins, Awakening and II. Taking suggestions! [40: Everyone's favourite apostate explains why he's not worried.]
1. Be Prepared

_**This idea came from A Very Merlin Musical by whitcrossgirl. I loved it, any Merlinians should read it! I give her kudos for this idea. I have, however, recently become aware of Disney Age by Kashamuffin., which is basically the same idea as this. I'd started writing these before I knew, so I apologise to them for doing what could be considered their idea - no plagarism was intended, just some laughs :) ~Witchcraft**_

**B****e Prepared (The Lion King) – Meredith and the Templars**

Kirkwall had no leader. The people were turning to that mage loving Champion for guidance. But that didn't mean that Knight Commander Meredith was going to allow that to continue.

She marched in front of her assembled troops – only her most faithful and true to the Chant. Her favourites, but that didn't mean that she would go easy on them. The future was coming, and Meredith meant for that future to be hers. And that would take power. Power, and force.

"_I know that your powers of retention_," she barked, "_Are as wet as a small nug's backside. But thick as you are, pay attention – my words are a matter of pride._" The Templars looked blankly back at her. Even Cullen seemed confused. Meredith sighed in exasperation. "_It's clear from your vacant expressions, the lights are not all on upstairs. But we're talking __Viscounts__ and __Champions__ – even __you__ can't be caught unawares!_"

The Templars started to nod as the idea dawned on them. Meredith smiled. "_So prepare for the rite of a lifetime – be prepared for __sensational__ news! A shining new era is tiptoeing nearer –_"

"_And where do we feature_?" asked Cullen, suddenly and indignantly.

"_Just listen to teacher_," replied Meredith, somewhat patronisingly. The Templars looked a little nervous as they understood the meaning of her words. "_I know it sounds sordid, but you'll be rewarded,_" she urged, "_When at last I am given my dues! And injustice deliciously squared –_" she thought painfully of her sister – "_Be prepared!_"

The Templars burst into cheers. One laughed stupidly. "_Yeah, we'll be prepared!_" he shouted, before pausing. "_Er, be prepared for what?_"

"_For the death of the mages!_" cried Meredith, her eyes glowing with malice.

"_Why?_" asked the same young Templar. "_Are they sick?_"

Meredith sighed. "_No, fool, we're going to kill them! And the Champion, too._"

Another Templar piped up. He had a thin, weasel-like face and an equally thin, reedy voice. "_Great idea!_" he shouted. "_Who needs a Champion?_"

He and his friend began chanting. "_No Champion, no Champion, la-la-la-la-laa-la!_"

Meredith clouted them both around the heads. "_Idiots! There __will__ be a Champion!_"

"_Hey, but you said –_"

"_I__ will be __Viscount__!_" She turned to the others. "_Stick with me,_" she cried, "_And you'll never see a mage again!_"

The Templars cheered again, with more vigour – a few started shouting "Long live the Viscount! Long live the Viscount!"

"_It's great that we'll soon be a part of an order that's all time adored!_" they chanted, in harmony.

Meredith chuckled darkly. "_Of course, quid pro quo, you're expected to take certain duties on board._" At their worried expressions, she laughed again, more loudly. "_The future is littered with prizes! And, though I'm the main addressee, the point I must emphasize is –_" she paused for effect, before raging, "_You won't get a __sniff__ without me!_"

"_So prepare for the coup of the century! Be prepared for the murkiest scam!_" ordered Meredith, turning away as the Templars harmonised behind her. "_Meticulous planning, tenacity spanning -_"

"_We'll have dust! Lyrium dust! That's a must – endless dust!_" cried the Templars as Meredith rubbed her hands in anticipation.

"_Decades of denial is simply why I'll be Viscount undisputed, respected, saluted, and seen for the wonder I am!_" murmured Meredith to herself, through gritted teeth. She turned back to the gleeful Templars. "_Yes, my sword and ambitions are bared – be prepared!_"

"_Yes, our swords and ambitions are bared – be prepared!_" repeated the Templars, before cheering loudly at their Commander – the Commander that would rid Thedas of the evil of magic, and would guarantee them a lifetime supply of the dust.

Meredith grinned evilly. Her plans were unfolding. And no _champion_ of a Fereldan was going to stand in her way.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Next up - Morrigan won't say she's in love.**_


	2. I Won't Say I'm In Love

_**I've changed a few lyrics on this. Obviously Morrigan wouldn't speak like Meg would, haha :P I did consider using this song for Isabela, but Morri won out.**_

**(I Won't Say) I'm In Love (Hercules) – Morrigan**

A smile lingered on Morrigan's face as the Warden walked away. Sten and Shale – honestly, could he take anyone less inconspicuous on these missions of his – followed him, as well as that dog that trailed at his heels constantly. She caught the bard's eye, and realised that she had been watching the two of them, a knowing grin on her face. Morrigan snorted in mock disgust, and turned away. She headed toward the forest, muttering something about herbs that even she didn't listen to.

Thoughts of the Warden played on her mind as she stepped over mossy stones and logs. Thoughts that found themselves voiced to the forest. "_If there's a prize for rotten judgement,_" sighed Morrigan as she walked, "_I guess I've already won that. No man is worth the aggravation – 'tis ancient history, foolish, childish!_"

A chorus of voices came trailing behind her in perfect harmony. "_Who'd'ya think you're kidding? He's the Earth and heaven to you! Try to keep it hidden? Honey, we can see right through you!_" Deciding that it was merely her imagination, Morrigan continued. So did the chorus. "_Girl, ya can't conceal it, we know how you feel and who you're thinking of!_"

Unbeknownst to her, the others left at the camp, through Leliana's persuasion, had followed the witch, determined to make her see sense about her feelings toward the Warden. Wynne had noted that she was hardly likely to listen to them in person. So Zevran had concocted an insane plan to follow her, that seemed, so far, to be working.

Oghren threw a flower at her feet. Looking confused but unperturbed, Morrigan continued on her way, while the others silently scolded the dwarf.

"_No chance, no way! I won't say it, no, no,_" said Morrigan, decidedly.

"_You swoon, you sigh, why deny it, uh-oh?_" asked the others, a few yards behind her.

"_'Tis too cliché, I won't say I'm in love,_" replied Morrigan, her tone firm, her expression not. Sighing, she stopped to sit on a log. Her followers hastily paused, listening to her musings. "_I thought my heart had learned its lesson,_" she lamented, "_it feels so good when you start out. My head is screaming 'get a grip, girl', unless you're dying to cry your heart out!_"

"_You keep on denying, who you are and how you're feeling; baby, we're not buying,_" commented the others, looking at each other exasperatedly. "_Hon, we saw ya hit the ceiling! Face it like a grown-up – when you gonna own up that you've got, got, got it bad?_"

Morrigan looked behind her, her belief in the voices being her imagination stopping for a moment. They were wrong, anyway. Who did they think they were, thinking they knew her mind? "_No chance, no way! I won't say it, no, no,_" she confirmed, scowling into the shadows of the forest.

"_Give up, give in!_" they called back, and Morrigan allowed a small smile at their determination. It was like the Warden.

"_Check the grin, she's in love,_" whispered Leliana to her companions.

Morrigan's scowl resumed. "_This scene won't play, I won't say I'm in love!_"

"_You're doin' flips, read our lips - you're in love!_"

Morrigan flung herself up and made her way to the camp again. She would not be told about her own mind by disembodied voices. They were probably woodland spirits trying to drag her off course. "_You're way off base,_" she informed them, sulkily, "_I won't say it. Get off my case! I won't say it!_"

"_Girl, don't be proud, it's okay you're in love,_" called her followers, quietly. Wynne sent a small spark of magic to the flower Oghren had thrown, and it followed the witch all the way to back to camp. They followed it, silently.

Morrigan was surprised to see the camp deserted when she returned. Sitting down on her roll of blankets, she saw the little white flower next to her. Picking it up thoughtfully, she smiled wistfully. "_Oh, at least out loud,_" she sighed to herself, leaning back onto the tent and smiling, "_I won't say I'm in love._"

The others sighed fondly as they watched her from the trees. Now all they had to do was get back without her noticing.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Next up: A young Anders dreams of the life he can't have outside the tower.**_


	3. Out There

**Out There (The Hunchback Of Notre Dame) – Anders**

The sound of footsteps echoed up the narrow stone stairs of the tower. Two mages wandered past, whispering about how an apprentice had tried escaping the Templars. Then, a boy appeared on the staircase, no older than fifteen, wearing torn and dirty apprentice robes. A man walked behind him, clad in Templar armour and his hand clasped tightly on the boy's shoulder.

The Templar seemed to be preaching to the boy. "_The Fade is cruel,_" he recited. "_The Fade is wicked. It's us alone whom you can trust to keep you safe there – we are your only hope._" The boy seemed to be torn between rebelliousness and fear. Seeing this, the Templar continued. "_We who keep you, teach you, feed you, dress you; we, who look upon you without fear. How can we protect you, boy, unless you always stay in here? Away in here?_"

The boy looked down at his feet, keeping his gaze away from the Templar. The man sighed. "Remember what you have been taught, Anders," he warned, turning the boy roughly by the shoulders to face him. "_You are a mage._"

"_I am a mage,_" repeated Anders, quietly.

"_You are a danger."_

"_I am a danger._"

"_And these are crimes for which the Chant shows little pity,_" explained the Templar, walking forward and pushing the boy in front of him. "_You do not comprehend!_"

"_You are my one defender,_" replied Anders, as if reciting from a book.

"_Out there they'll revile you as a monster_," said the Templar, motioning to the window.

"_I am a monster_," mumbled Anders.

"_Out there they will hate and scorn and jeer_."

"_Only a monster_."

"_Why invite their calumny and consternation?_" asked the Templar, dramatically, standing by the window and looking out on Lake Calenhad. Anders was watching the horizon, wistfully. "_Stay in here, be faithful to us._" A threatening edge crept into the Templar's voice.

"_I'm faithful_," promised Anders, fearfully.

"_Grateful to us."_

"_I'm grateful!_"

"_Do as we say – obey,_" commanded the Templar, his eyes boring into Anders'. "_And stay  
in here_."

"_I'll stay in here_," repeated Anders, scared to meet the man's eyes.

As the Templar walked away, Anders stood, shaking, by the window. That was the second time he'd tried to get out. He hated the Templars. And the Templars hated him – especially that one. Greagoir. He thought that one day, he'd be a big shot in the Order. Anders shuddered at the thought of Greagoir one day being in charge of the tower. In front of the other mages, he was all words and warnings. Alone… Anders had come from their 'meetings' a few times with bruises and cuts that he hadn't gone in with.

Turning to the window, his eyes traced the horizon, longingly. "_Safe behind these windows and these parapets of stone,_" he murmured, "_Gazing at the people down below me. All my life I watch them as we hide up here alone, hungry for the histories they show me._" He smiled lightly as he saw the owner of The Spoiled Princess dealing with a few drunks outside his pub. "_All my life I memorize their faces – knowing them as they will never know me. All my life I wonder how it feels to pass a day, not above them, but part of them…!_"

He ran up the next flight of stairs, all his fantasies of the outside world that he'd lost all those years ago playing freely in his mind. He reached the next floor, flinging himself to the window. "_And out there, living in the sun,_" he breathed, leaning on the stone wall and stretching to reach the fresh air whirling past. "_Give me one day out there! All I ask is one, to hold forever._"

"_Out there, where they all live unaware – what I'd give,_" Anders cried as he watched the drunkards outside the tavern topple over into the lake, "_What I'd dare, just to live one day out there!_"

He felt his feet carry him up yet another flight of stairs – the tower was practically made of them – with the same force that his daydreams were made of. "_Out there among the travellers and merchants and their wives, through the trees and forests I can see them,_" he mused, a smile on his face as he saw the small light square on the ceiling of the next floor. "_Ev'ry day they shout and scold and go about their lives, heedless of the gift it is to be them!_" He pushed with his mind – his magic flowed through him, lifting the ceiling hatch with ease.

"_If I was in their skin,_" he shouted, uncaring if anyone heard him – he was _so close_. "_I'd treasure ev'ry instant out there, strolling by the sea._" He inhaled as the air came rushing through the hatch that led to the roof. "_Taste a morning out there, like ordinary men who freely walk about there. Just one day and then, I swear, I'll be content,_" he laughed as he pulled himself up onto the roof, "_With my share. Won't resent, won't despair, old and bent, I won't care._"

He stood proudly on the roof of the tower looking over the lake and the forests that surrounded it, feeling the wind whipping around him. "_I'll have spent one day out there!_"

If there was one thing that Anders wanted more than to master healing, it was to be free of the Templars. And he'd be damned to the Void if that wasn't going to come true.

-0-0-0-0-

**_Next up: Zevran decides to help Alistair get the girl._**


	4. Kiss The Girl

**Kiss The Girl (The Little Mermaid) – Alistair/Fem!Warden**

Zevran watched, wincing as that oaf of a warrior cracked joke after awkward joke. Didn't the fool realise that everyone knew what he was thinking? Perhaps everyone, he thought, except the fair Lady Warden herself.

Sharing a glance with Leliana, who had been watching the two as closely as he had been, Zevran nodded. A wicked smile played on his lips as he formulated a plan. He was, after all, the lothario of their motley crew – if he couldn't help Alistair, with the aid of their friends, of course, then the little affair between the Wardens would never happen. It was all about creating… _the mood_.

Standing up, using all of his skills to be as soundless as possible, he motioned to his companions. "_Percussion!_" he whispered to Oghren, who gleefully began patting on empty tankards. "_Strings!_" Leliana picked up her lute. "_Winds!_" Wynne sighed, and pulled a flute from her pack. "_Words_," he finished, trusting himself with that part.

Stalking through the shadows to behind Alistair, he began to sing. "_There you see her. Sitting there across the way. She don't got a lot to say, but there's something about her…_" Alistair looked around, confused. Zevran rolled his eyes. "_And you don't know why, but you're dying to try – you wanna kiss the girl._"

The Warden seemed not to have heard. Alistair, however, looked as if he were in a sudden quandary. "_Yes, you want her – look at her, you know you do,_" Zevran continued. "_It's possible she wants you, too , there is one way to ask her – it don't take a word, not a single word – go on and kiss the girl._"

Nothing. Zevran turned to his companions, hastily. "_Sing with me now_," he murmured, moving to another place before Alistair could spot him.

"_Sha-la-la-la-la-la, my, oh, my, look at the boy too shy, he ain't gonna kiss the girl!_" they lamented, looking at each other helplessly. "_Sha-la-la-la-la-la, ain't that sad? Ain't it shame? Too bad…_"

"_You gonna miss the girl,_" commented Zevran, sadly. He wouldn't let a fellow man miss out on a lovely woman because of the man's own stupidity.

The Warden stood, moving toward the lake they camped by. She motioned Alistair over, who followed her, like a puppy. Zevran followed, silently.

"_Now's your moment,_" he whispered from the shadows. "_Sitting by a blue lagoon. Boy, you better do it soon, no time will be better!_" The Warden had gone quiet, playing with her fingers. Zevran watched Alistair's panicked expression with pity. "_She don't say a word,_" he advised, "_And she won't say a word until you kiss the girl._"

"_Sha-la-la-la-la-la, don't be scared!_" came the voices of their companions, encouragingly. "_We got the mood prepared, go on and kiss the girl! Sha-la-la-la-la-la, don't stop now! Don't try to hide it, how you wanna kiss the girl._"

Zevran joined in with their song, as Alistair took the Warden's hand, spurred on by their song. "_Sha-la-la-la-la-la, sit right down, listen to the sound, the sound says 'kiss the girl'! Sha-la-la-la-la-la, music play, do what the music say! You wanna kiss the girl._"

The tension was palpable as Alistair leaned in to the Warden. Her eyes widened as she realised what was happening, and she leaned in in time.

"_You've got to kiss the girl!_" whispered Leliana, urgently.

"_Why don't you kiss the girl?_" muttered Morrigan, rolling her eyes.

"_You gotta kiss the girl!_" mumbled Oghren, leaning forward to see them more clearly.

"_Go on and kiss the girl!_" cried Zevran, impatiently.

Just as their faces came within inches of each other, a deafening cry came from the woods behind, and a horde of darkspawn came crashing toward the camp. Alistair and the Warden sprang up, their faces crimson, and rushed toward them.

Zevran had never been so disappointed at the chance to kill things.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Up Next: The Wardens promote their new society.**_


	5. Rescue Aid Society

_**Suggested by – thanks for the idea! :D  
~This is based on an 'all origins' background.~**_

**Rescue Aid Society (The Rescuers) – The Wardens**

Morrigan couldn't believe it. She knew that the ragtag group of Wardens with which she travelled were, on the whole, a generous lot – if you discounted Brosca's pickpocketing habit or Mahariel's occasional xenophobia – but this?

It had been Cousland's idea. Of course it had been. Lady Chivalry, as Oghren called her sarcastically. "It's just so we can help people," she had reasoned, "Without blowing our cover as Wardens!" _Foolish wench_, thought Morrigan, disgustedly.

"And what, pray tell, are you intending to name this… _charity_?" she'd asked, sneeringly.

"The Rescue Society!" that foppish elven mage had shouted.

And that had been that.

And now, they were in Denerim, of all places – _advertising_.

"_R-E-S-C-U-E!_" the chanted, Brosca's face crinkling slightly as he counted the letters on his thick fingers. "_Rescue Aid Society!__Heads held high, touch the sky__ – y__ou mean everything to me__._" Amell winked roguishly at a passing market girl. Morrigan fumed from the shadows. She had travelled with them to see Denerim, not to take part in such idiocy. Why did they not just wave a banner above their heads reading 'Here we are'?

"_In a fix? In a bind?_" Amell asked the girl as she blushed.

"_Call on us anytime!_" cheered Brosca, grinning widely and waving his axe before Tabris took it from him hastily.

"_We'll appear from nowhere,_" boasted Mahariel, her vallaslin earning intrigued looks from passers-by.

"_Mighty are we__!_" they chorused, together. "_R-E-S-C-U-E!__Rescue Aid Society!__Honesty, loyalty, we pledge to thee__!_"

Morrigan had to put a stop to this. There were several names and 'problems' on the list in front of Cousland already. But then they broke into that infuriating song again.

"_R-E-S-C-U-E,__Rescue Aid Society!__Heads held high, touch the sky__, y__ou mean everything to me._"

"_In a jam, in a scrape?_" chimed in Aeducan, her gaze flickering occasionally to the dwarf merchant in the market.

"_And you think, "no escape"?_" shrugged Surana, smiling flirtatiously as a young man approached the table. Morrigan sighed. Why he insisted on 'testing' every young male they came across, Morrigan would never know.

"_Do not fear, we'll be here!_" promised Cousland, her face creased in earnest as she shook the young man's hand, nodding.  
"_Courageous are we__!_" they shouted, smiling widely at each other. "_R-E-S-C-U-E!__Rescue Aid Society!_"

Morrigan felt herself going mad.

"_Heads held high, touch the sky!__Our hearts we pledge to thee!_"

Morrigan refused to speak to Amell that evening, let alone invite him to her tent. And of course, they had spent the next few weeks doing pointless, ridiculous jobs for little coin.

She was looking forward to meeting the Archdemon. Mother had better have been right, after all this.

-0-0-0-

_**Up next: Cailan just can't wait to be king.**_


	6. I Just Can't Wait To Be King

_**Suggested by Griffindell – thanks! Hope you like :D**_

**I Just Can't Wait To Be King (The Lion King) – Cailan Theirin**

Cailan and Anora sat in the corner of the courtyard, whispering and giggling about something or other. Arl Eamon, once again charged with keeping an eye on the King and Teyrn Loghain's children, was standing not too far away.

"Oh, just look at you two," he said, smiling. "Little seeds of romance blossoming in the courtyard. Your parents will be _thrilled_, what with your being betrothed, and all."

Cailan and Anora shared a look, before staring at Eamon, confused. "Be-_what_?" asked the seven year old prince, his face screwed in bemusement.

"Betrothed," repeated Eamon, patiently. "Intended? _Affianced_?"

Anora shook her blonde head, her lip curled. "Meaning….?"

"One day, you two are going to be married," explained Eamon, happily. Both children made disgusted noises, shaking their heads in dismay.

"I can't marry her!" exclaimed Cailan in horror. "She's my friend!"

"Yes," agreed Anora, vehemently. "It would be too _strange_."

Eamon rolled his eyes. "Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but you two turtledoves have no choice," he said, somewhat crossly. "It's a tradition going back generations –"

"Well, when _I'm_ king, that'll be the first thing to go," interrupted Cailan, looking roguishly at Anora.

"Not so long as I'm around," huffed Eamon.

"Well, in that case, leave," giggled Cailan.

Eamon smiled, gritting his teeth. "Hm," he grunted. "Admirable effort, your highness, but only the king can send me away from court."

"Well, Cailan is the future king," mused Anora. Cailan whooped appreciatively.

"Yes!" he shouted, standing up and grinning widely. "So you have to do what I tell you!"

"Not yet, I don't," said Eamon, hurriedly, but the prince was already in his stride. "And with an attitude like that," he continued, "I think you're shaping up to be a rather naïve king indeed –"

"Not the way _I _see it!" called Cailan, he and Anora sprinting away. Sighing, Eamon followed, just in time to hear the boy bragging to anyone who'd listen.

"_I'm gonna be a mighty king,_" he boasted, "_so enemies beware!_"

"_Well, I've never seen a king of Thedas with quite so little hair,_" grumbled Eamon, thinking of Maric's thick beard.

The boy took no notice. "_I'm gonna be the main event, like my father was before! I'm brushing up on looking down, I'm working on my ROAR!_" he bellowed, standing on the fountain so as to reach Eamon's face.

"_Thus far, a rather uninspiring thing,_" commented Eamon, exasperatedly.

"_Oh, I just can't wait to be king!_" cried Cailan, joyfully, running off to the armoury, Anora hot on his heels.

Eamon jogged after them, shouting, "You've rather a long way to go, young master, if you think –!"

The guards in the armoury waved merrily to Cailan and Anora as the scampered past. "_No one saying do this!_" he giggled.

"Now when I said that, I—"

"_No one saying be there!_" Anora joined in.

" What I meant was –"

"_No one saying stop that!_"

"Look, what you don't realise –"

"_No one saying see here!_" cried the two, together.

"Now see here!" shouted Eamon, almost tearing his hair out.

"_Free to run around all day,_" pondered Cailan, pretending to stab Anora with a sword, as she feigned death.

"Well, that's definitely out..."

"_Free to do it all my way!_"

And with that, the prince and the teyrn's daughter sprinted away, laughing wildly.

"_I think it's time,_" panted Eamon, catching up to them in the kitchens, "_that you and I arranged a heart to heart._"

"_Kings don't need advice from boring old Arls for a start!_" retorted Cailan, cheekily, as Anora snorted in laughter.

Eamon threw his hands in the air in frustration. "_If this is where the monarchy is headed, count me out!_" he exclaimed. "_Out of service, out of Ferelden, I wouldn't hang about! This child is getting wildly out of wing…_"

Cailan stood on the table, declaring, "_Oh, I just can't wait to be king!_" The servants looked at him, smiling at his infectious glee. "_Everybody look left!_" he commanded, and they all did so. "_Everybody look right!_" They turned to Eamon, who stood blankly. "_Everywhere you look I'm standing in the spotlight!_" Cailan was standing on the shoulders of a burly cook, and the servants exploded into cheers before starting to chant.

"Not yet!" cried Eamon, impatiently.

"_Let every Fereldan go for broke and sing,_" chanted the servants, gesturing wildly as Cailan and Anora paraded around on their shoulders. "_Let's hear it in the street and on the sea! It's gonna be King Cailan's victory!_"

Cailan and Anora joined in their song as Eamon stood by the door, shaking his head. "_Oh, I just can't wait to be king!_" yelled Cailan. "_Oh, I just can't wait to be king!_"

"_Oh I just can't wait,_" the servants chanted as Cailan was crowned with a cook's hat, "_to be king!_"

And with that, they paraded out of the kitchen, leaving Eamon pressed against the wall, utterly out of breath.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Up next: Kirkwall celebrates Hawke's rise from zero to hero.**_


	7. Zero To Hero

_**This is my personal favourite so far. Just because I love the song.**_

**Zero To Hero (Hercules) – Garrett Hawke**

Varric drained his tankard, and set it back on the table. His eyes flickered to the enthralled crowd his story had gathered, then to the small group of misfits standing by the door of the Hanged Man.

"So… What's the Champion doing now? Now that he's defeated the Qunari?" asked a particularly enraptured man with a dirty face.

A grin spread across Varric's face as he stood up. "From that day forth, our boy Hawke could do no wrong." He waved to the barman. "He was so hot," he continued, smirking, "_Steam _looked _cool_."

And he threw a coin purse to Corff before leaping to join the others, just as Hawke himself appeared at the door. As the rag-tag crew of friends went outside into the Lowtown sunshine, Varric started to sing.

"_Bless my soul! Hawke was on a roll!"_

Isabela joined in, shaking her hips. _**"**__Person of the week in each Kirkwall opinion poll!"_

"_What a pro_!" swooned Merrill, before Varric took over again.

"_Hawke could stop a show - point him at a monster and you're talking SRO_! _He was a no one_ –"

Anders and Merrill turned their heads from side to side as they harmonised.** "**_A zero, zero._"

Varric motioned wildly at Hawke, bellowing –** "**_Now he's a honcho, he's a hero!_"

That was when Aveline rounded the corner, pointing straight at Hawke and saying to her guard – "_Here was a kid with his act down pat! From zero to hero, in no time flat!"_

"_Zero to hero!_" joined in the guards.

"_Just like that!_" smirked Varric, with a click of his fingers.

They had made their way to Hightown by now, and people were out in force to see the new Champion. Outside the Blooming Rose, a lithe Elven face was grinning widely at the affectionate female attention Hawke was being engulfed by.

"_When he smiled_," Jethann sang across the crowd, "_The girls went wild with_ –"

He was cut off with a series of melodic "_Ooooooh, ahhhhh_!" noises from the noble women as Hawke smiled roguishly.

Isabela tapped his arm, and pointed to one of the stalls – it was full of ornaments and earthenware, adorned with Hawke's face and the new Hawke crest.** "**_And they slapped his face_," he explained, "_On ev'ry vase –"_

"_On ev'ry __vase_," cut in Anders, his clipped tones belying the grin on his face.

Fenris appeared at that moment, holding Hawke's coin purse in front of his face – it must have been pickpocketed among the crowd. Hawke grabbed it quickly, as Fenris joined in. "_From hunting fees and royalties, our Hawke had cash to burn - now nouveau riche and famous –"_

Varric pointed to a group of Orlesian nobles in their finery – "_He could tell you what the nobles earn!"_

"_Say amen!_" cried a group of Chanters outside the Chantry, as the group passed, Hawke smiling widely. "_There he goes again!"_

"_Sweet and undefeated_," cried Aveline, punching Hawke's shoulder, "_And an awesome 10 for 10!_"

"_Folks lined up just to watch him flex_," said Fenris, with a hint of distaste as Hawke threw back his shoulders.

Isabela jumped onto Hawke's back, her hands on his chest.** "**And this perfect package," she cried to the crowd of girls, "_packed a pair of pretty pecs!_"

The crowd suddenly piped up, singing in chorus –** "**_Hawkie, he comes, he sees, he conquers - honey, the crowds were going bonkers! He showed the moxie, brains, and spunk! From zero to hero –_"

"_A major hunk!_" shouted Isabela, from her perch on Hawke's shoulders.

"_Zero to hero!_"

"_And who'da thunk?_" asked Varric, to his companions, thinking back to the Fereldan refugee who'd made his name as Meeran's go-to boy. "_Who put the glad in gladiator?_" he asked the crowd.

"_Garrett Hawke!_" came their loud response.

Bethany's dark head appeared in a crowd of mages being shepherded back to the Gallows. She was smiling. "_Whose daring deeds are great theatre?_"

"_Garrett Hawke!"_

"_Is he bold?_" Aveline asked her guards, still trailing behind them.

"_No one braver,_" they agreed.

"_Is he sweet?" _asked Merrill, to no one in particular.

"_Our favourite flavour!_" shouted the crowd of young women.

By now, the whole of Hightown was chanting his name. "_Garrett Hawke!_" they sang, loudly. _Garrett Hawke!_"

"_Bless my soul, Hawke was on a roll,_" they sang, as Isabela guarded Hawke jealously. "_Undefeated! Riding high –_"

"_And the nicest guy,_" commented Varric to Cullen as they passed.

"_Not conceited!_" replied the crowd."_He was a nothin' - a zero, zero - now he's a honcho, he's a hero! He hit the heights at breakneck speed - from zero to hero! Hawke is a hero! Now he's a hero!_"

Varric listened to the crowd hold their notes for a while, before jumping in front of them."_Yes indeed!_" he cried, as the crowd burst into applause.

-0-0-0-0-

**_Up Next: Orana encourages her fellow servants to be happy while working for Mistress Hawke._**


	8. Happy Working Song

_**Just a little filler ficlet while I work on some requests :) enjoy! Orana was such a lovely character :3**_

**Happy Working Song (Enchanted) – Orana**

Orana looked around, sighing. Mistress Hawke had had her friends over for dinner in the mansion last night, and of course, it had ended in far too much ale and wine being consumed and far too much diamondback being played. Even Mistress' dog had seemed to join in. And, naturally, Mistress had gone out with them this morning – the elf lady with the pretty tattoos (Orana did like her, almost as much as she liked Mistress Hawke), the small hairy man who always told jokes, and the tall blonde man who scared Orana a little. It was too much for a lady like Mistress to be up all night, then go out fighting all day.

The place was a mess. There were tankards all over the place, there were puddles of things Orana didn't like to think of in corners, and Mistress' bathroom was abominable. Orana was sure that the funny dark lady with no trousers had spent a good deal of time in there, but she wasn't sure what she had been doing. Bodahn and his boy, Sandal – they were lovely, making Orana feel at home and one of the family – were also surveying the chaos. Mistress would want the place nice and clean and tidy for when she came back, thought Orana. She might be bringing the strange, tattooed man again. She felt sure that she knew him from somewhere.

"All right everyone," announced Orana, clapping her hands. "Time to tidy things up!"

Humming to herself, she charged into the mess, looking back to see Bodahn wringing his hands in reluctance, and Sandal smiling distantly. "_Come my little friends, as we all sing a happy little working song!_" she trilled, pointing to the pile of sacks in her cleaning supplies. "_Merry little voices clear and strong! Come and roll your sleeves up, so to speak, and pitch in, cleaning muck up in the kitchen as we sing along!_"

Sandal followed her, holding a sack open as she tossed bits of rubbish into it. Bodahn sighed, and collected a few rags and soap before heading upstairs. Orana could only imagine what delights he would face in Mistress' bathroom.

"_And you'll trill a cheery tune in the tub as we scrub a stubborn mildew stain,_" she called, cheerfully. "_Lug a hairball from the shower drain, to the gay refrain of a happy working song!_"

She danced around, picking up pieces of meat and bones and old playing cards. "_We'll keep singing without fail, otherwise we'd spoil it,_" she sang. Singing always made her chores better. "_Hosing down the garbage pail, and scrubbing up the toilet!_"

She twirled Sandal, and he laughed loudly. Orana smiled as she began polishing the surfaces with a rag. "_How we all enjoy letting loose with a little 'la-da-da-dum-da', while we're shaking out the duster! It's such fun to hum a happy working song!_"

A small voice drifted from upstairs, and from Sandal. "_Oo-ooh_!" whooped the dwarves, enjoying themselves as much as Orana.

"_A happy working song_!" she repeated, merrily.

She sighed as she opened the large windows, leaning out and inhaling the fresh Hightown air, and its faint scent of perfumed flowers. "_Oh, how strange a place to be, now Mistress employs me – my heart is sighing,_" she mused, thinking back to her time in Tevinter and shuddering. This place was much better. "_Still, as long as I am here, I guess a new experience could be worth trying – hey! Keep drying!_" she giggled as she saw Bodahn leaning on the bannister, catching his breath.

"_You could do a lot when you got such a happy little tune to hum,_" she advised him, twirling past, flicking dust from the pictures as she went. "_While you're sponging up the soapy scum! We adore each filthy chore that we determine – so friends even though you're dwarven, we're a happy working throng!_"

Sandal was humming along with her as Bodahn whistled to himself. The boy was busy cleaning the floors downstairs, and his father was polishing the surfaces. Orana pranced into Mistress' room, shaking her head at the undershirts and leather armour straps dotted around. Picking them up with the grace only a well-trained servant could have, she smiled. "_Singing as we fetch the soap filled box, or the smelly shirts and the stinky socks!_" she sang, taking the pile of clothes downstairs to wash. "_Sing along! If you cannot sing then hum along,_" she giggled to Bodahn, whose singing was rather less tuneful than her own. "_As we're finishing our happy working song!_"

That was that – all the work was done, and the house was beautifully tidy and sparkling clean, just the way Mistress – and Orana – liked it. She sat down on a stool, wiping her brow and surveying her work as the two dwarves collapsed beside her.

"Ah...wasn't this fun?" she asked, happily.

-0-0-0-0-

**_Up Next: The Templars should be wary of Uldred's friends on the other side._**


	9. Friends On The Other Side

_**This was written initially as Tarohne from DA2, but thanks to Sakura Lisel's great idea, here is some creepy Uldred being a voodoo master from the Deep South. Or, a blood mage from Kinloch Hold. Whichever floats your boat.**_

_**Thank you to the same reviewer for pointing out all the mistakes, too!**_

**Friends On The Other Side (Princess and the Frog) – Uldred**

The two Templars sprinted along the passage. Mages had been running, screaming, from the top floor, shrieking about abominations and blood magic. The older of the two kept muttering about how this was always going to happen but the younger was doubtful. The Templars kept a close eye on the mages, didn't they? The Libertarians had had no chance to learn anything of the sort.

Another staircase. Pulling his comrade upward, he scoured the darkness – darkness? – for signs of life. A thin, familiar voice echoed from within.

"So kind of you to join us, gentlemen."

The younger Templar cleared his throat. "Uldred. Step forward where we can see you."

"The mage is mad," muttered Odo. "Tread carefully."

A light suddenly flashed in the corner, and a pale, bald man in stained robes appeared. He looked angry. "_Don't you disrespect me, little man!_" he spat, stepping forward. "_Don't you derogate or deride! You're in my world now, not your world – and I've got friends on the other side!_"

An echo seemed to reverberate through the dark cavern. In the corner of his eye, Willem thought he saw shadows flickering on the walls. "_He's got friends on the other side..._"

Uldred laughed at the sudden nervous looks on their faces. "That's an echo, gentlemen," he explained, nonchalantly. "Just a little something we have here in the Tower, a little parlour trick. Don't worry..." And two mages pushed them to a small, chalk circle in the centre of the room, grinning maliciously.

"_Sit down in my circle,_" he ordered. "_Put your minds at ease. If you relax it will enable me to do anything I please._" He flicked his fingers, and the circle surrounding them burst into flame. "_I can read your future. I can change it 'round some, too. I'll look deep into your heart and soul…_" He leaned into the elder Templar's face, chuckling, "You do have a soul, don't you, Odo?" Then sitting back. "_Make your wildest dreams come true!_"

The Templars looked terrified as Uldred flicked electricity around the edges of the circle. "_I got voodoo, I got hoodoo, I got things I ain't even tried!_" he bragged, before lowering his voice. "_And I got friends on the other side._"

The echo came again. "_He's got friends on the other side!_" they whispered, and Willem felt a cold finger run down his spine.

Uldred snapped his fingers, and a laughing mage tipped a pile of cards into Uldred's hands. This was an insult to the younger Templar; it was a rumour among the recruits that blood mages could tell the future from cards. The mages themselves scoffed at this. Uldred spread them out across the table, murmuring, "_The cards, the cards, the cards will tell – the past, the present, and the future as well!_" he giggled, and looked up, staring at Willem. "_The cards, the cards, just take three,_" he beguiled him, his eyes boring into the templar's. "_Take a little trip into your future with me…!_"

Willem extended a shaking hand and pulled three random cards from the spread. Uldred snatched them from him, examining them closely – little did the Templars know how the cards concealed a smile. "_Now you, young man, are from the city,_" said Uldred. "_You come from two long lines of poverty. The coin's plenty – but the dust's too few…You can't be hooked on lyrium and be a knight too!_" Willem blushed. He wasn't the only new recruit to have developed a fondness for the stuff. Uldred leered in mock sympathy, and nudged him. "Templar life pretty tough, huh kid?" he asked, smiling wryly. "Now you gotta kill mages, but mages supply the dust. You just want the lyrium, who cares about freedom? But lyrium... takes magic!" He showed him the next card, depicting a bag of money. "_It's magic, it's magic, it's magic you need – and when I look into your future, it's magic that I see!_"

Willem trembled, looking at Odo desperately. The older man raised his eyebrows cynically, and picked his own cards. Uldred sniffed. "_On you, little man, I don't want to waste much time – you been pushed around all your life,_" he dismissed. "_You been pushed around by your mother and your sister and your brother; and if you were married..._" He smirked. "_You'd be pushed around by your wife._" He then showed him the next card, showing a man bearing a sword and a halo, and giggled, "_But in your future, the you I see is exactly the man you always wanted to be!_"

Odo nodded, his eyes narrowed. What did this madman want…? Uldred extended his hands, not bothering to conceal the faint lines of blood smeared on her palms. "_Shake my hand,_" he directed, grinning. "_Come on boys… Won't you shake a poor sinner's hand?_

Willem felt his hand thrust forward against his will, and rough hands forced Odo to lean forward and grasp a slippery palm. "Yes..." cackled Uldred, feeling the thrum of blood magic start to pulse through him. "_Are you ready?_"

"_Are you ready?_" repeated the eerie echo. Odo and Willem exchanged terrified glances, realising what was happening. It was too late.

"_Are you ready? Transformation central!_" screeched Uldred, as the men began to shake uncontrollably. The shadows on the walls burst into flame and paraded around the room, no longer shadows, but full, fiery, angry beings.

"_Transformation central!_"

"_Reformation central!_" The Templars were beginning to stretch and distort – Willem's handsome face seemed to be melting, and Odo's limbs were extending at strange angles.

"_Reformation central!_" chanted the demons, gleefully.

"_Transmogrification central!_" yelled Uldred as the Templars collapsed at his feet. "_Can you feel it? You're changing, you're changing, you're changing, all right! I hope you're satisfied,_" he sneered, as the abominations rose in front of him, their eyes blank. "_But if you aren't – don't blame me! You can blame my friends on the other side!_"

The abominations that had once been Willem and Odo of the Templar Order stumbled clumsily over the demons that reached for them with long, fiery fingers. "_You got what you wanted!_" they laughed. "_But you lost what you had!_"

A sudden hush descended on the room. Uldred chuckled menacingly. Only the rest of the order to go, and they would control the tower.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Up Next: Carver reflects on what he really wants from his life.**_


	10. Reflection

_**Since I didn't update yesterday, I'm uploading two ficlets today. Also - thank you for all the lovely reviews! I've got all your suggestions written down, so they're all on the way :)**_

_**This was a tough one to choose a character for. I kept switching between Carver and Merrill, since the song fits them both so well (with the exception of Carver being male). I went for Carver eventually, since I find him to be one of the most interesting, and underrated, characters in DA2. Also, this one is a little more wordy than the others.**_

**Reflection (Mulan) – Carver Hawke**

Carver liked the docks. It was like a colony of ants in the day, especially on Tuesdays, with sweaty, stinking sailors and women of lesser morals scrambling around haphazardly. But in the evening, more like dusk, before the cutthroats and robbers came out and after the workers went home, it was quiet. It was almost peaceful. Almost.

And it was a relief to get away from Gamlen's house. Just to get away from Gamlen, really, with his snide remarks and his incessant drinking. He made Carver sick. Then there was Mother, looking wistfully at Hightown and lapsing into morose silence whenever she thought no one was looking. And then, as always, there was Marian, with her constant serene expression, her constant need to help people for no reward, her constant inability to see the bad in anyone. Most of the time, it made him feel ill. But then, most of the time, he wished he could be more like her.

Not with the magic – Maker's breath, he didn't want _that_ over his head too. It was bad enough with Marian running around carelessly, staff strapped to her back. And before that, there was Bethany. And Father. He'd always seemed to care more for his daughters than Carver, though, and sometimes, Carver had wished that he just a little more like them.

And now Bethany was gone, and Marian was the breadwinner, and once again, Carver was nothing to anyone. He looked into the rippling water beneath the harbour, watching his own face look back at him. "_Look at me,_" he sighed, to no one in particular. "_I will never pass for a perfect son… Or a perfect brother. Can it be I'm not meant to play this part?_" He looked away, finding his gaze drawn to the direction he'd walked, from Lowtown. "_Now I see that if I were truly to be myself, I would break my family's heart._"

That was the truth of things. Lately, he'd found himself more and more drawn to the Templars, to the order and stability they promised. Maybe Marian wasn't dangerous. But he'd seen enough blood mages – and that idiot, Anders – by now to understand that magic itself was. Not that his family would see it that way. But did he really want to join the Templars because he agreed with them, or did he just want to separate himself, wholly and unconditionally, from his sister? Carver himself didn't know.

He stood, walking along the harbour, planks creaking under his boots, and looking out to the water. A tall, powerful youth looked back at him, but he looking uncomfortable in his physique, as if it were a suit of armour weighing him down. "_Who is that kid I see?_" he asked, his heart heavy, "_staring straight back at me? Why is my reflection someone I don't know?_"

Collapsing onto a pile of barrels, Carver held his head in his hands. "_Somehow I cannot hide who I am,_" he lamented, tears threatening to leak from his eyes. "_Though I've tried… When will my reflection show who I am inside?_" A fish jumped in the sea, shattering his reflection into ripples. "_When will my reflection show who I am inside?_"

He didn't know how long he sat there for. But when he went home, he had made up his mind – he would join the Templars. He didn't belong in Marian's world, anymore.

-0-0-0-0-

**_Up Next: Zevran and Oghren teach Alistair a wonderful phrase._**


	11. Hakuna Matata

_**This was suggested by Griffindell. Thanks so much! :D  
This is set after Arl Eamon tells the entire party, with an incredible lack of tact for a politician, that Alistair is the true heir, if he hasn't told you already. **_

_**THIS SONG IS SO HAPPY. :D Also; Zevran/Oghren Bromance FOR THE WIN.**_

**Hakuna Matata (The Lion King) – Zevran, Oghren, Alistair**

Alistair hadn't spoken for a while since Eamon's revelation. It probably didn't help that the Warden wasn't speaking to him, either, muttering about secrets and 'thought they were friends'. Zevran and Oghren looked concernedly at the blond man.

"Kid needs cheering up," muttered Oghren. Then, seeing the expression crossing the Antivan's pointed features, he groaned. "What're yeh planning now, elf?"

But it was too late. Zevran had wandered over to the man, slung a lithe arm around his shoulders, and was saying loudly, "Life cannot surely be that bad, _amigo_? You are to be king!"

"Exactly," moaned Alistair, too lost in his own self-pity to push the elf's arm away. "I don't want to be!"

"I imagine your brother could not wait for such a title," reasoned Zevran as Oghren sat down heavily on Alistair's other side.

Alistair snorted. "I imagine Cailan went running through the house singing about it on a regular basis."

They sat in silence for a moment. "Ah, well," Zevran sighed. "Hakuna matata."

Alistair looked at him, bewildered. "What?"

"Hakuna matata."

"Hacky ma-what-a?"

"Hakuna matata," interrupted Oghren, feeling pleased at knowing something the pike-twirler didn't. "It means 'no worries'."

"It's a phrase that comes from Rivain," said Zevran. "It's good for a time like this." He spread his arms wide. "_Hakuna matata! What a wonderful phrase,_" he sighed, smiling.

"_Hakuna matata!_" repeated Oghren, catching the elf's eye.

"_Ain't no passing craze...!_" they chorused, leaping to their feet.

"_It's means no worries__ f__or the rest of your days!_" explained Zevran.

"_It's our problem free__ p__hilosophy,_" Oghren joined him. "_Hakuna Matata!_"

"Hakuna matata…" wondered Alistair.

"Yep," grinned Oghren. "Antivan says it's the Rivaini motto."

"Nah, the _motto_with Rivain is the raiders," quipped Zevran, and the two fell about laughing.

"But seriously," chuckled Oghren. "I reckon those two words could solve all your problems."

"That's right," agreed Zevran, remembering a conversation he had had in Tapster's with the dwarf. "Take Oghren for example!"

Oghren looked at him, curiously.

"_Why - when he was a young warrior,_" began the elf.

Oghren nodded, getting the drift. "_When I was a young warrior!_" he bellowed.

"Very nice," quipped Zevran, rolling his eyes before turning back to Alistair. "_He found his aroma lacked a certain appeal__, h__e could clear the Proving Ground after every ale!_"

"_I'm a sensitive soul,_" sighed the dwarf. "_Though I seem quite tough.__And it hurt that Braska thought I smelled like a nug…__And oh the shame!_"

"_Oh, it was a shame!_" agreed Zevran, dramatically.

"_Thought of changing my name!_"

"_Oh, what's in a name?_"

"_And I got downhearted –_"

"_How did you feel?_"

"_Every time that I –_"

"Hey, Oghren!" interrupted Zevran, clapping a hand over the dwarf's mouth. "Not in front of the Chantry Boy," he sniggered. Alistair blushed.

"_Hakuna matata!_" they chorused, shrugging and grinning. "_What a wonderful phrase!__Hakuna matata,__ain't no passing craze!_"

Their enthusiasm was too much for Alistair. "_It means no worries,_" he chimed in, grinning reluctantly. "_For the rest of your days!_"

"Yeah, sing it, kid," chuckled Zevran.

"_It's our problem free philosophy__ - __hakuna matata!_" they sang together, arms around each other's shoulders.

They walked off in a march, shoulders and arms swinging, past the camp, the others watching them in amazement.

"_Hakuna, matata,_" chanted the dwarf and the elf, as they came full circle. "_Hakuna, matata, hakuna, matata, hakuna –_"

"_It means no worries!_" cried Alistair, happily. "_For the rest of your days!_"

"_It's our problem free,_" the three sang, leaning together, "_philosophy__ - __hakuna matata!_"

"_Hakuna matata,_" sang Alistair.

"_Hakuna, matata, hakuna, matata,_" recited Oghren, swigging his ale.

"_Hakuna matata! Haku-una matata!_"

"_Hakuna matata!_"

The three men collapsed on a blanket roll heavily, giggling like schoolboys and slapping hands.

"See! No worries!" cried Zevran, as the others shook their heads and returned to their duties.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Anyone who got the Lion King reference, other than the song (:L) gets metaphorical cookies!**_

_**Up Next: The Warden and her companions discuss their dreams.**_


	12. I've Got A Dream

_**I NEED to see this film. Like, now. So far I've just listened to the soundtrack on YouTube. This, however, is possibly my favourite song from it. Suggested by Sakura Lisel – thanks! :D**_

_**Features fem!mage!Warden.**_

**I've Got A Dream (Tangled) – DA:O Companions**

"What?" huffed the Warden. "Just because you lot don't have any crazy dreams."

A deep sigh came from the far corner of the camp. It sounded a little like a hurricane blowing through a cave.

Shale was regarding the Warden expressionlessly, as she usually did. "What?" asked the Warden, indignantly. "Don't tell me that you have some… weird ambition? All you want to do is stomp on pigeons!"

Shale drew herself up. "I may be made of stone," she snorted, "But that doesn't mean I'm a blank stack of boulders, either. Does it think I wish to spend my existence following it around stamping on its darkspawn enemies?"

The Warden raised an eyebrow. "Well…" she said. "What is it?"

The golem hammered over to the fire. "_I'm enormous, stone and scary,_" she boomed. "_My feet could flatten poultry. And violence-wise, my hands are not the cleanest…_" She thought of her old master. If stone could grin, she would have. "_But despite my massive weight, and my temper, and my gait - I've always yearned to be a Noble lady!_"

The others gaped at her. Oghren started chuckling to himself. The others joined as the enormous golem began parading around the camp. "_Can it not see me in Orlais dressed up in finery? Silk and beads and pearls and how they gleam?_" she swooned. "_Yes, I'd rather be called lethal for my talent with a needle…_" Leliana clapped enthusiastically, pleased at having found a fashion friend. "_Thank you!_" called Shale. "_'Cause way down deep inside  
I've got a dream!_"

"_She's got a dream!_" chanted the others, energetically. "_She's got a dream!_"

"_See, I'm not as cruel and vicious as I seem! Though I do like breaking femurs,_" Shale admitted, "_You can count me with the dreamers! Like everybody else, I've got a dream!_"

Her companions burst into cheers and Shale finished. Oghren stood up when the cheers died down, swaying slightly as he did so. "_I've got scars and lumps and bruises,_" he slurred. "_Plus something here that oozes. And let's not even mention my complexion…_" Zevran wolf whistled, and the group chortled. "_But despite my dirty clothes, and my beard, and my nose… I really want to make a love connection!_"

The group burst into hysterics. Not to be not taken seriously, the dwarf leapt onto the crate they stored spare armour in. "_Can't you see me with a special little lady?_" he asked, his eyes sparkling. "_Rowin' in a rowboat down the stream? Though I'm one disgusting blighter, I'm a lover, not a fighter - 'cause way down deep inside I've got a dream! I've got a dream!_"

"_He's got a dream!_"

"_I've got a dream!_"

"_He's got a dream!_"

"_And I know one day romance will reign supreme!_" bellowed Oghren, smiling widely. "_Though my face leaves people screaming, there's a child behind it, dreaming - like everybody else, I've got a dream!_"

"_Wynne would like to quit and be a florist!_" came a shout, and the older woman quickly dropped the flowers she had been quietly arranging in her lap.

"_Leliana does interior design!_" That was true. It was the bard who decided where the tents should go, in case one face east and it brought bad luck.

"_Alistair's into mime!_" The blond man blushed, thinking of how he would entertain the children in Redcliff by acting out silent plays.

"_Morrigan's cupcakes are sublime!_" The witch's scowl softened. She did like to cook.

"_Bodahn knits!_"

"_Sandal sews!_"

"_Dog does little puppet shows!_" The hound stopped pawing at the dolls he'd found when he heard his name.

"_And Sten likes to collect ceramic unicorns!_" bellowed Shale. The Qunari looked unperturbed. Then he grunted, grinned, and shrugged. The others cheered before turning to the last member of their group, expectantly.

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, my friends," he quipped. "But I do not sing."

Scowls from the companions. The elf knew what that meant.

He scrambled to his feet. "_I have dreams, like you - no, really!_" he sighed. "_Just much less touchy-feely. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny… On an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone – surrounded by enormous piles of money!_"

The group cheered as Zevran rolled his eyes and sat down.

"_I've got a dream!_" cried the Warden, looking distant.

"_She's got a dream!_"

"_I've got a dream!_"

"_She's got a dream!_"

"_I just want to see darkspawn dead at my feet!_" she confessed. "_And with every passing hour  
I'm so glad I left the Tower - like all you lovely folks I've got a dream!_"

"_She's got a dream!_" they chorused, happily. "_He's got a dream! They've got a dream!  
We've got a dream! So our diff 'rences ain't really that extreme! We're one big team!_"

"_Call us brutal –_"

"_Sick –_"

"_Sadistic –_"

"_And grotesquely optimistic,_" slurred Oghren.

"_'Cause way down deep inside we've got a dream!_"

"_I've got a dream!_" cried Shale.

"_I've got a dream!_" they chorused. "_Yes way down deep inside, I've got a dream!_"

The group collapsed, laughing hysterically, to the floor.

At least now, thought the Warden, she knew what her companions would do after the Blight.

-0-0-0-0-

_******A couple of 'serious' ones to follow, while I work on the 'fun' ones. Thanks again for all the reviews :D**  
_

_**Up Next: Malcolm teaches his daughter a valuable lesson on life.**_


	13. We Are One

**_I'm keeping track of all the requests, and they will ALL be written! They're amazing! :D I'll be posting a few pre-written ficlets for about a while, as I've just got back to college and all these lovely exams D: so, never fear, suggestions are... Near?_**

**_Lots of introduction on this. I always get a little carried away with the Hawkes... Oh, and this is the same Marian Hawke that features in 'Reflection'. I have many Champions. :L _  
**

**We Are One (The Lion King 2) – Malcolm and Marian Hawke**

Malcolm was fond of taking his eldest for long walks through the woods and fields whenever the twins were sleeping. Marian was only seven, but there was a seriousness and understanding in her that seemed twice that. And of course, there was the magic they'd found in her a few years ago.

Was he proud, or pained? Sometimes Malcolm wasn't sure. But whatever happened, his little girl would be free. She would never be a slave of the Circle. That was why he brought her out here – the only time you were truly free, he often said, was when you were outside society's eye. With nature.

A strangled cry from behind him made Malcolm spin around – Marian had tripped, and was nursing a cut knee, trembling and trying not to cry. She was a fighter, he knew, and almost smiled as she stubbornly denied the tears. She would not cry in front of anyone.

"Here," he sighed, healing the scrape with ease. She looked at the freshly knitted skin curiously.

"How do you do that, daddy?"

"Magic."

"Like I have?"

Malcolm chuckled. "Yes, like you have."

A serious expression crossed her little face. "Why do we have magic, daddy? Ser Corren was telling the others in the Chantry that magic is dangerous."

Malcolm sighed. "It's no more dangerous than a sword or a bow, Mari."

"But, they're _very_ –"

"I know. But they can be used for good, can't they?" Marian nodded, slowly. Malcolm smiled. "Exactly. One day, Mari, you're going to be a mage like me. The Maker gave us our power. So we can use it for good things."

"Like you use it for good things?"

"Like protecting the ones you love," he explained. "One day, Mari, you're going to be head of our family. Using your magic to protect mother, and Carver, and Bethany – that's good."

The little girl looked unconvinced. Setting her down on her feet, Malcolm turned her to face her, a tired smile on his face. "_As you go through life, you'll see there is so much that we don't understand,_" he explained. "_And the only thing we know, is things don't always go the way we planned._" She looked confused, and Malcolm motioned for her to follow him. "_But you'll see every day, that we'll never turn away. When it seems all your dreams come undone, we will stand by your side, filled with hope and filled with pride._" He shot a bolt of fire at a dead branch, setting it alight before quenching it with ice. Mari clapped her hands, enthralled. "_We are more than we are,_" he said, profoundly, "_We are one._"

They walked in silence for a while, as Mari digested what he'd said. She eventually piped up. "_If there's so much I must be,_" she began, slowly, "_Can I still just be me? The way I am?_" She skipped over a stone and looked up at the sky. "_Can I trust in my own heart, or am I just one part of some big plan?_"

"_Even those who are gone are with us as we go on,_" replied Malcolm, thinking painfully of Ser Carver, the Templar who had helped him escape the Marches. If he could have been here, he would have done everything in his power to protect little Mari. "_Your journey has only begun. Tears of pain, tears of joy; one thing nothing can destroy is our pride,_" he repeated, "_deep inside, we are one._"

The sun was sinking in the sky, now, and Malcolm pointed at the horizon, where the sun was starting to meet the fields in the distance. "_We are one, you and I, we are like the earth and sky, one family under the sun._" He hoisted his daughter onto his shoulders as their little house came into view. "_All the wisdom to lead, all the courage that you need… You will find when you see, we are one._"

Setting her down outside the door, Malcolm dropped to one knee, his hand under her chin. "As long as you live here," he told her, "it's who you are." He kissed her head tenderly before going into the house, leaving Marian to ponder.

All those years later, Malcolm's little girl still repeated that lesson to herself every morning.

-0-0-0-0-

_**I love this song so much. It's so... Profound. And it's the song of basically every fandom.**_

_**Up next: Brosca always has to keep one jump ahead in Orzammar.**_


	14. One Jump Ahead

_**I like this one. I like the film though, so I'm biased :) Others considered for this were Tabris and Isabela, but then I realised that the Dwarf Commoner origin was perfect. :D**_

**One Jump Ahead (Aladdin) - Brosca**

Orzammar Market had been fairly quiet that day. But of course, the pair from Dust Town had appeared around midday, and the place had been turned upside down.

A cry of "Stop, thief!" propelled the guards into motion, and they headed swiftly into

A dwarf with dark braids, leaning casually against the wall, shouted loudly over the heads of the approaching guards. "Hey, Brosca! Get your ass movin', salroka, we gotta go!"

Another cry. "Guards! He's here"

Then –

"Ah, crap!" and a wild laugh.

Next thing, Brosca came into view, short legs sprinting through the crowd, two loaves of bread clutched to his filthy patched armour. The head guard swung his sword, but Brosca dodged the heavy blade just in time. "_Gotta keep__ on__e jump ahead of the breadline,_" he muttered, "_One swing ahead of the sword.__I steal only what I can't afford,_" he shrugged as he sidestepped another swipe, letting the guard hit a box of nug meat instead, which spilled over the street. "And that's everything," he exclaimed, before running again.

"_One jump ahead of the lawmen,_" he continued as the guards came hot on his heels, weapons brandished. "_That's all, and that's no joke – __t__hese guys don't appreciate I'm broke!_" He stopped in front of a crowd, wondering if they saw the funny side.

Nope. "_Riffraff!_" they shouted as he dodged through them.

"_Street rat!_"

"_Duster!_"

"_Take that!_"

"_Just a little snack, guys,_" reasoned Brosca to the two burly men blocking his exit.

The gruff voices of the guards bellowed from behind him. "_Rip him open, take it back, guys!_"

Brosca gulped, and squirmed past the men. "_I can take a hint, gotta face the facts –_" he threw a loaves to the dark haired dwarf – "_You're my only friend, Leske!_"

Leske nodded, and ran back to Dust Town. The guards would never deign go in the slum, and Brosca could lose the guards quicker without carrying things.

Brosca jumped through a low window, and found himself staring at a silk covered bosom. Or three. Ah, yes. It was the Dulin sisters. He seemed to remember being chased from this window before by their mother. "_Oh, it's sad that Brosca's hit the bottom,_" they sighed. "_He's become a one-man rise in crime!_"

"_I'd blame the mother but she's too drunk to notice,_" came a growl, and Brosca looked around to see the heavy set Dulin matriarch. He gulped, and turned back to the sisters.

"_Gotta eat to live,_" he reasoned, "_gotta steal to eat,__tell you all about it when I got the time?_" He leapt through the opposite window as he avoided her broom.

"_One jump ahead of the slowpokes!__One skip ahead of my doom__,_" he skipped around the guards, feeling cocky. "_Next time, gonna use a nom de plume,_" he mused, cheekily. "_One jump ahead of the hitmen –__ o__ne hit ahead of the flock.__I think I'll take a stroll around the block…_" He snuck around the corner, hands in his pockets, lips pursed.

"_Stop, thief!_" came the cry of stall owners. "_Vandal!_"

"_Outrage! Scandal!_"

The guards had backed him into a doorway. Gulping, he tried charm. "_Let's not be too hasty…_"

Strong arms picked him up from behind, and he closed his eyes, envisioning the cell he'd spend a week in –

"_Still I think he's rather tasty,_" came a gruff yet girlish voice from above him, and Brosca nearly fainted as he saw the broodmother lookalike that was his rescuer.

"_Gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat,_" he grinned, flipping out of her arms and resting on a guard's breastplate. "_Otherwise we'd get along!_"

"_Wrong!_" bellowed the guards, as they dived for him.

Brosca wasn't entirely sure how he escaped the pile-on of swords and armour plating, but he found himself sprinting aimlessly through the market, passing street performers, criers, stalls, and wondering if he should have kept his daggers on him.

"_One jump ahead of the guardsmen!__One hop ahead of the hump,_" he muttered, as guards seemed to appear from all sides. "_One trick ahead of disaster – they're quick, but I'm much faster!_" He leapt up a set of stairs and into a window – he knew where he was going. The guards were closing in on him, grinning in victory. He crossed his fingers. "_Here goes, better throw my hand in,__wish me happy landin' – all I gotta do is jump!_"

And with that, he leapt out of the window, landed with a startling lack of grace on the floor, and galloped away into the recesses of Dust Town, laughing and whooping in victory, as the guards stood in the window above, fuming.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Hope that added some energy after the chill profoundness of the last one! More fun coming up :)**_

_**Up Next: Hawke's companions have a moment of childishness on the Wounded Coast.**_

_**(Have fun working that one out - the clues are getting cryptic...)**_


	15. Following The Leader

_**I couldn't decide between the DA:O companions or the DA2's, but my own affection for Isabela won out and took DA2 with it. This song makes me giggle. **_

**Following The Leader (Peter Pan) – The Companions of DA2**

Hawke wasn't entirely sure why they had all decided to follow him. He'd only mentioned going to sort out the Tal-Vashoth on the Wounded Coast, and everyone had piped up. Even Fenris, and Hawke thought that they didn't get on.

So, with the biggest party he'd even travelled in, Hawke awkwardly led the way across the Coast, wondering if he'd missed something.

"This reminds me of a game we used to play when I was a da'len," said Merrill, dreamily. "We used to walk in a line, and whatever the person in front did, everyone had to do."

"What, so, I kill a Qunari, you kill a Qunari?" asked Hawke, sarcastically. "I stab myself in the foot, everyone stabs themselves in the foot?"

"Why would you do that, Hawke?" asked Merrill, genuinely confused. "That would be a bit silly, wouldn't it? What with us doing so much walking, and everything."

Hawke shook his head, and moved on.

"But haven't you ever heard of it?" pestered Merrill, turning to everyone. "You know… _Following the leader, the leader, the leader?_" She sung a little tune as she did it, shamelessly. Isabela giggled.

"_We're following the leader, wherever he may go,_" she joined in. "I like this game!"

A strange noise came from behind them. It was Anders; _singing_. "_Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do tee day,_" he improvised, grinning.

"_Tee dum, tee dee, it's part of the game we play!_" continued Aveline, her stiff lips twitching into a grin.

"_Tee dum, tee dee, the words are easy to say!_" warbled Varric, and the entire group turned to the dark skinned elf, who looked thoroughly exhasperated.

"_Just a teedle ee dum ee teedle ee do tee day,_" he finished, throwing his hands up in the air. He had quite a tuneful voice, thought Hawke, vaguely.

His companions had gone mad, Hawke decided. It was the air. Some of that strange Qunari gas. Gaatlok. They'd come around in a moment.

But alas, no. Merrill's enthusiasm proved infectious, and the six of them danced around Hawke like children, singing absurdly in a chorus. "_Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do dee dum! We're one for all, and all of us out for fun! We march in line and follow the other one, with a teedle ee do ee teedle ee do tee dum!_"

That was enough.

"What in the name of Andraste's saggy left –" Hawke exclaimed, resting on his staff, deciding to wait for this insanity to pass. But no, Merrill was having none of it, and she grabbed his hand, pulling him onward and dancing as she did so. Everyone fell into line behind them, and began whistling that stupidly happy song as loud as they could.

"_Following the leader, the leader, the leader! We're following the leader, wherever he may go!_" they started up again as they rounded the corner. Hawke wondered, briefly, if all the Tal-Vashoth had been scared off. "_We're out to fight Qunari,_" his companions sang, far too cheerily for the context, really, "_Qunari, Qunari! We're out to fight Qunari, because Hawke told us so!_"

Now that was going a little too far.

"Hang on, I didn't tell –"

"_Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do tee day! We march along And these are the words we say!_"

"Aveline, come on, you have to see –"

"_Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee deedle ee day!_"

"Fenris, surely you understand –"

"_Oh, a teedle ee dum a teedle ee do tee day! Oh, a teedle ee dum a teedle ee do tee day!_"

The whistling continued until they arrived back at the Hanged Man, with Hawke's face like thunder.

"Was this," he asked, through gritted teeth, "why you all insisted on accompanying me?"

Merrill blinked innocently. "I don't know what you mean, Hawke. It's not our fault that you've been so grumpy lately. We just wanted to come with you to make you feel better."

If it hadn't have been for the puppy eyes, Hawke's ale would have been tipped over her pointy eared head.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Can't decide whether this incarnation of Hawke was romancing Merrill or Isabela. Maybe he was just a serious Hawke.**_

_**Up Next: Merrill just wants to be like other girls.**_


	16. I Wanna Be Like Other Girls

_**Hello again! Sorry for not updating for a few days, but my broadband company decided to switch off all connections to my area :/ We have it back now, and I'll be updating regularly again! (Thank you for the concern, Apollo - makes me feel loved :D)**_

_**So, here is a Merrill-centric ficlet for you! This was originally planned around Merrill and a young Mahariel, but I decided it didn't work. Like a boss.**_

_**Enjoy :)**_

**I Wanna Be Like Other Girls (Mulan II) – Keeper Marethari and Merrill**

Merrill sighed. She'd had to spend all day watching Mahariel, Tamlen and the others play fight and run around, while she had been stuck in the aravel, learning about Arlathan. She didn't mind learning about history – she _loved _it – but she knew that the other children in the camp thought she was strange. Not just because she was from outside the clan, that was normal, but because she couldn't ever go out and play.

Keeper Marethari smiled at the girl, who was staring wistfully at the campfire outside where Hahren Paivel was telling some scary story. The children were enraptured, clinging onto each other when the more thrilling parts were told.

"Merrill," she sighed, sitting down next to the wide eyed girl. "Why don't you go and join them? You have finished your studies."

"I can't, Keeper," mumbled the girl. "I don't know what to do."

"What about Mahariel? She is a nice girl, is she not?"

Merrill nodded, then shrugged. "They're all too busy for me."

Marethari nodded. It was hard, being a First, and never being able to join in with the frolicks of others your age. She put an arm around the girl. "_The life of a Keeper,_" she explained, quietly, "_from her birth is well-defined.__She must humbly serve her people__… __Play the parts she's been assigned.__She guards the hopes of her people – __w__eak and mighty, craft and bow.__Who could ever ask for more?_"

"_Who could ever ask for more…?_" repeated Merrill, sadly.

"_Who could ever ask for more?_"

Merrill sighed. Then her head straightened, and she stood bolt upright. Looking almost pained, she began ranting. "_I wanna be like other girls!_" she raved. "_Climb up a tree like other girls can!__Just to be free, like other girls__ g__et to be!_"

The girl began pacing the aravel, motioning wildly with her hands. "_To slouch when I sit,__to eat a whole cake__, f__eel the sun on my feet –_"

"_Get dirty!_" came a chuckle from the door, and Marethari saw Ashalle's kind face looking through the door of the aravel, laughing quietly at the First's outburst. "_Act silly!_"

"_Be anything I want to be!_" continued Merrill. "_To dance around__ i__n my underwear!_"

Ashalle laughed, climbing into the aravel as Marethari shook her head, smiling. "_To run really fast__!_" swooned her First. "_To get rid of this staff!_ _To eat a whole cake!_"

"_Get crazy!_" added Ashalle, mischieviously.

"_With berries!_" Merrill elaborated. "_No magic__, n__o training, __no thick books__, n__o worries, no learning the history that goes back millennia…_"

"_No itchy robes?_" asked the Keeper, chuckling at the gleeful expression on the girl's face.

"_I wanna be like other girls!_" she cried, pointing to Mahariel and the others outside. "_Scrape up my knees like other girls can!__Just to be free,__like other girls__ g__et to be._"

She sighed, looking longingly at the group outside. "_To speak for myself,__to sing way off key__… Bo__nd with someone I've met,__who loves me for me!_" She turned to the older women, who looked fondly back. "_No magic,__no training,__no thick books,__no worries__, n__o learning the history that goes back millennia…No itchy robes!_"

"I wanna be like other girls!" she shouted, staring uncertainly at the door of the aravel. "Climb up a tree like other girls can! Just to be free, like other girls get to be!"

With one more look at the adults, she grinned and ran out to join the others.

Looking out of the window, Marethari saw Mahariel and Fenarel welcome her warmly as the First sat between them. The Keeper smiled.

"She'll be a mischievous one," chuckled Ashalle, affectionately. "You won't hold her down."

-0-0-0-0-

_**Yay for crazy Merrill!**_

_**IMPORTANT FOR NEXT FICLET**__** - I've written the next update around a Fenris/MALE HAWKE relationship. So, slash, I guess. Being an iclusive writer FTW ;D If there is any serious issues taken with this, then I'll change. Hopefully there won't be.**_

_**Loves!**_

_**Up Next: Fenris and Hawke wonder if there's something there that wasn't there before.**_


	17. Something There

_**I have a strange fascination with Beauty and the Beast songs and Fenris/Hawke. This one is based on one of my own male!Hawkes, so **__**slash ahead**__**. Thank you to everyone who approved :3**_

_**This is slightly out of continuity, with the reading part, but not much. **_

**Something There (Beauty and the Beast) – Fenris/Hawke**

They had just got back from clearing the Wounded Coast of raiders, and Hawke and his party were exhausted. They had dropped Isabela and Varric off at the Hanged Man, and now he and Fenris were making their way up to Hightown. Hawke stumbled as he dragged his feet up the steps, falling forward – a strong, brown hand caught him mid-fall. Looking up, he saw Fenris, with a strange expression on his usually serious face. He helped him up and smiled awkwardly, before turning away. Hawke stared at his back for a moment. He had come to his aid almost constantly in the past few battles, and made sure that his wounds were tended to and that he didn't get into too much danger.

"_There's something sweet,_" he mused, "_a__nd almost kind. __But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined.__But now he's dear, and so unsure__… __I wonder why I didn't see it there before._"

Fenris was trying to compose himself. His eyes flicked back to Hawke, as they so often did – and was it his mind playing tricks, or had he been doing the same? "_He looked this way__ – __a tiny glance,_" his mind shouted in glee. "_And when we touched he didn't shudder at my marks! __No, it can't be, I'll just ignore… __But then he's never looked at me that way before…_"

As they approached his mansion, Fenris had an idea. "Hawke," he muttered, "I have something to show you… I think you may like it." Maker, he didn't know what he was doing.

Hawke cocked his head, curious. "What is it?"

It was Danarius' library. Fenris had seen just how happy Hawke became whenever they found a book of any kind, or the seller in the Gallows got new stocks. He had no need for books, but the library in Danarius' mansion must have housed at least a few hundred of the things.

"I can't believe it!," breathed Hawke, wondrously. "I've never seen so many books in my whole life!"

"You like it?" asked Fenris, unsure of what to say.

"It's wonderful!"

"It's yours…" he muttered. "I have no need for it…"

Hawke turned to the dark elf, affection glowing in his heart as she saw the way he shuffled his feet and picked at his armour nervously. "_New and a bit alarming,_" he thought, as he fought the urge to hug him. "_Who'd have ever thought that this could be?__True, that he's no Prince Charming…__But there's something in him that I simply didn't see__._"

He browsed through the tomes as he thought. "Oh, this is one of my favourites!" he exclaimed, suddenly. "It's 'King Calenhad.' Have you ever read it?"

Fenris jumped. "N-No," he mumbled.

Hawke chuckled. "You don't know what you're missing. I'd love to read this again. Wait...you can read this first." He brandished the book out to the elf, eagerly.

"No, that's alright…" replied Fenris, hastily.

"No, really, you read it!"

"Oh, No, you..."

"No, you," laughed Hawke.

"No! I can't..." then Fenris stopped, cringing.

"You never learned to read?" asked Hawke, slowly.

"Slaves… are not permitted to read," replied Fenris, wincing in shame.

Hawke regarded him for a moment. "Well," he said, decidedly. "It just so happens that this is the perfect book to read aloud. Come here, sit by me."

Fenris was too taken aback to argue, and sat docilely by Hawke, listening to the tale.

Unknown to the two, Isabela and Varric had crept out of the Hanged Man after them, not wanting to miss out on anything interesting. They'd managed to meet Aveline have way, who had insisted on chaperoning them, and Merrill had been determined to see what all the fuss was about.

The four of them were crouched shamelessly around Fenris' window, watching the two of them.

"_Well, who'd have thought?_" breathed Aveline.

"_Well, bless my soul,_" whistled Isabela, grinning.

"_Well, who'd have known?_" asked Varric, shrugging.

"_Well, who indeed?_" agreed Isabela.

"_And who'd have guessed they'd come together on their own?_" wondered Aveline, in surprise.

"_It's so peculiar,_" pondered Isabela. "_Wait and see._"

"_We'll wait and see,_" agreed the dwarf and the redhead.

"_A few days more__, t__here may be something there that wasn't there before__,_" they decided, simultaneously.

"_Perhaps there's something there__ t__hat wasn't there before,_" chuckled Varric, jotting something down on his piece of parchment.

Merrill looked confused at their ramblings. "_What?_"

"_There may be something there that wasn't there before__,_" repeated Isabela, widening her eyes at the elf girl.

Merrill shook her head. "_What's there, Isabela?_"

Isabela giggled, and ruffled the girl's hair. "Ssh. I'll tell you later, kitten. Come along now. Let's give them some privacy..."

-0-0-0-0-

_**YAY FOR VARRIC THE CLOCK, ISABELA THE TEAPOT AND AVELINE THE CANDLESTICK.**_

_**And Fenris the giant, hairy, tusked beast, but we'll let that one pass. Also Garrett Hawke, the dainty bookworm.**_

_**Up Next: Justice persuades Anders why the mage needs a friend like him.**_


	18. Never Had A Friend Like Me

_**I have an hour and a half long History exam tomorrow. I'm practically wetting myself with fear. Maker's buttock, I really am shaking… So I thought I'd give y'all a cheerful ficlet before I leave to revise. **_

_**Writing happy!Justice. Never again. This entire thing is crack. :P**_

**Never Had A Friend Like Me (Aladdin) – Justice and Anders**

Anders regarded the spirit, uncertainly. He was asking a lot.

"Look, I'm not sure it'd be a good – " he began, but the corpse interrupted him.

"Anders," he said, seeming more animated than the mage had ever seen him. "You want to free the mages, do you not?"

"Well, of course I – "

"Then you need me!"

Anders narrowed his eyes. "Justice, are you – "

"I'm fine, mage," he growled, his dead eyes, ironically, alive with excitement. The spirit sighed. "_Anders! I don't think you quite realise what you have, here!_" He motioned to himself. "_Let me illuminate the possibilities._"

Anders was getting worried. He was stuck in a Keep with a mad spirit.

"_Well the Howe boy's got a bow to yield,_" offered Justice, pushing the mage down onto a crate. "_The Seneschal wears a suit o' mail. But Anders you're in luck, 'cause up your sleeves,__ y__ou got a brand of magic never fails!_

"_You got some power in your corner now!_" he stressed, pointing at a training dummy. Anders gasped as it came alive instantly. "_Some heavy ammunition in your stead! __You got some punch, pizzazz, yahoo and how__, __all you gotta do is let me in your head!_" He pointed again, and the dummy burst into flames. "_And I'll say –_

He leaned over Anders, speaking directly into his ear. "_Mister oh-Anders, sir, __what will your pleasure be? __Let me take your order__, j__ot it down - you ain't never had a friend like me!_" He mimed writing, grinning wildly. "_Life is your restaurant,_" he posed, "_And I'm your maitre d'! __C'mon, whisper what it is you want, __you ain't never had a friend like me!_"

Anders wondered, briefly, how a Fade spirit knew Orlesian culinary terms. Justice seemed to sense this, and elaborated.

"_Yes sir, I pride myself on service,_" he gushed. "_You're the boss! __The king, the mage! __Say what you wish__, __it's yours! True dish – __h__ow about a little more Dwarven ale?_"

Anders quickly refused the bottle Justice held out to him. He didn't want that incident happening again.

"_Have some of this healing,_" offered the spirit, his left hand glowing. "_Try the electricity!_" His right hand sparked blue. "_I'm in the mood to help you, dude! __You ain't never had a friend like me!_"

Anders shook his head, and attempted to stand up. This was enough. Justice was now dancing around the room, making strange quacking noises, and Anders tried to sneak away.

Justice was having none of it.

"_Can your friends do this?_" he asked, as the bottles along the wall started propelling themselves around the ceiling. "_Do your friends do that?_" The crates banged open, lids clunking together in rhythm. "_Do your friends pull this out their little hat?_" Thousands of tiny lights exploded around the walls, illuminating the room in an eerie blue.

"_Can your friends go, 'poof'?_"

Justice was gone. Anders breathed heavily for a moment. But then –

"_Well, looky here!_" came the spirit's voice from the candelabra above. "_Can your friends go, Abracadabra, let 'er rip,__and then make the sucker disappear?_"

The candelabra disappeared, and Justice was suspended in mid-air, grinning like a madman at Anders.

"_So doncha sit there slack jawed, buggy eyed,_" scolded the corpse, "_I'm here to answer all your midday prayers! You got me bona fide, certified, you got a spirit for your chare d'affaires!_"

Again with the Orlesian. Anders wondered if it was Kristoff's corpse's influence.

"_I got a powerful urge to help you out,_" mused Justice, floating down to stand by Anders. "_So what-cha wish? I really wanna know! You got a list that's three miles long, no doubt, well, all you gotta do is take me in, and oh –_ "

Anders was grinning now. Justice wanted so much to help him. "_Mister oh-Anders, sir, have a wish or two or three,_" urged the spirit, smiling. "_I'm on the job, you big nabob! You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend…_"

"_You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend,_" he repeated, stepping back.

"_You ain't never, had a friend like me!_" he cackled, lighting up the room again, this time his whole being bursting into blue flames. Anders nodded, laughing, and stuck out his hand. "_You ain't never had a friend like me,_" finished Justice, grinning, as he took the mage's hand.

-0-0-0-0-

_**And then the Chantry exploded.**_

_**Up Next: Rica is determined to pull her family from the gutter.**_

**AN: **_**I thought I'd let you know about all your requests. I have been taking them down, but as I've been revising, I've only been uploading my pre-written ficlets. These are the requests taken so far, and I'll be writing these and my others very soon :)  
**__**- Can You Feel The Love Tonight (hotrodd 333, the sister of the anime bros)  
- Make A Man Out Of You (Sakura Lisel, LoveTheMix, )  
- You'll Be In My Heart (the sister of the anime bros)  
- Savages (Prime24601)  
- Very Good Advice ( – who asked for Alice In Wonderland)  
- Just Around The Riverbend (LoveTheMix)  
- King Of New York (Sakura Lisel – I'd never even heard of Newsies until now!)  
- Not One Of Us (Anon)  
- Poor Unfortunate Souls (hotrod 333)  
- Heaven's Light [NB – Hellfire may or may not be done] (hotrod 333)  
- Only Second Rate (Sakura Lisel – I love it, but again, I'd actually never heard it D:)  
- Proud Of Your Boy (Griffindell – I love this!)  
- Belle (Griffindell)**_


	19. Almost There

_**This song is the theme tune for my exams. I love it so very much, it took me ages to think of a character to fit its awesomeness.**_

_**Speaking of which... Exams are over (yay!), so requests are in the process of being written!**_

**Almost There (Princess & The Frog) – Rica Brosca**

It had been about a month since her brother had left with the Grey Wardens. Rica was standing in their 'family home', listening to Kala, once again, drunkenly rave about how they were going to starve now Beraht was dead.

"Well, I have to make sure that all Beraht's work on me means something," reasoned Rica, determinedly.

"What good ish it gunna do ush, now, though?" the older woman grumbled. "Yer brother's shodded off with the Ray Gordens, and now it'sh jusht us tryin' t' eshcape Jarvia. We're jusht gunna have t' try an' talk 'em out o' killin' ush, or – "

"Mama!" said Rica, firmly, hands on her not ungenerous hips. "I don't have time for talking!" She sighed at her mother. "_That's just gonna have to wait a while,_" she consoled, smiling at her secret. "_Ain't got time for messing around__, a__nd it's not my style. __This old slum just drags you down__, p__eople taking the begging way. __But I know exactly where I'm going - __getting closer and closer every day!_"

She grinned widely, shaking her mother's stooped shoulders. "_And I'm almost there!_" she asserted. "_I'm almost there! __People down here think I'm crazy, but I don't care._" It was true; no one believed a Duster could snag even a guard. They'd be the most shocked, when it turned out she was the only surviving Prince's mistress. "_Trials and tribulations... I've had my share. __There ain't nothing gonna stop me now 'cause I'm almost there!_"

She twirled as she tidied up the slovely room. "_I remember brother told me: 'Fairytales can come true. You gotta make 'em happen, it all depends on you!'_" That was her brother, the eternal optimist. "_So I work real hard each and every day,__ n__ow things for sure are going my way! __Just doing what I do – look out nobles, I'm coming through!_"

She wiggled her rear, giggling as she saw the muddled look on her mother's face. "_And I'm almost there! I'm almost there!_" she cried, happily. "_People gonna see me from everywhere__, a__nd I'm almost there! __I'm almost there!_"

She stopped as she reached the window, seeing the slum that was Dust Town outside. The place she'd lived in for nineteen years. "_There's been trials and tribulations,_" she murmured. "_You know I've had my share…_" She turned back to her mother, smiling broadly. "_But I've climbed the nug pile, I've crossed the lava, __and I'm almost there!_" She pulled her mother to standing, and danced around the table with her joyously. "_I'm almost there! __I'm almost there!_"

She would make her brother proud, and she would bring Kala out of the wreckage of the slums. All she had to do now was give Bhelen a son, and she'd be there.

-0-0-0-0-

_**That was incredibly short. But I love Rica so much, she's possibly the only reason I ever play as a dwarf commoner… She's so cute :3**_

_**Up Next: The War in Kirkwall brings out the savage in both Templar and Mage.**_


	20. Savages

_**It took a lot for me to do this one. It's one of my favourite Disney songs EVER from one of my favourite Disney films, so it was quite painful. But, it was too good a chance to pass up. So, here we have it.**_

_**The song was suggested by Prime24601 (I GET that reference, by the way :D) but I've changed the scenario a little. The other one I pictured was between the armies of the Exalted Marches and the elves of the Dales, but I seem to be doing a lot of Native American/Dalish elf comparisons. I thought I should stop. **_

_**Also... 20th Chapter! Yay! Thank you for everyone who has read, reviewed and requested! Keep 'em coming! :D**_

**Savages (Pocahontas) – Templars and Mages**

Meredith trembled with rage as she watched her men suiting up for battle.

"I told them these _savages_ couldn't be trusted," she seethed to Cullen, who stood next to her. "Thrask tried to befriend them, and look what they did to him!"

"Those mages were apostates… renegades, ma'am," murmured Cullen, looking slightly ill at ease.

"They are all the same, inside," growled Meredith. "I say it is time to revenge all of our courageous comrades!" She turned to her Templars. "At dusk," she ordered, "We attack!"

Cheers from the Templars echoed around the grounds.

"_What can you expect from filthy little mages?_" spat Meredith. "_Their whole disgusting race is like a curse! Their souls are hellish red – they're only good when dead! They're vermin, as I said, and worse!_"

"_They're savages! Savages!_" chanted the Templars, their faces twisted in fury.

"_Barely even human!_"

"_Savages! Savages!_"

"_Rid them from our world! They're not like you and me," _snarled the Commander,_ "Which means they must be evil. We must sound the drums of war!_"

"_They're savages! Savages! Dirty magic demons!_" came the furious cry. "_Now we sound the drums of war!_"

Meanwhile, in the Gallows, Orsino paced frantically in front of his mage charges. A few looked scared. Others enraged. They knew what was happening, and he would be damned if he was going to let Meredith harm them. "_This is what we await,_" he announced, angrily. "_The Templars have gone crazy. The only thing they feel at all is hate!_"

"_Beneath that steel armour,_" murmured Alain, his usual peacefulness replaced by wrathful anger, "_there's emptiness, no more._"

"_I wonder if they even bleed,_" mused a few mages, their faces curled in snarls.

"_They're savages! Savages!_" they agreed, knuckles white on staffs. "_Barely even human! Savages! Savages!_"

"_Killers at the core!_" raged Orsino.

"_They're different from us, which means they can't be trusted,_" whispered Alain.

"_We must sound the drums of war!_"

"_They're savages! Savages!_" they chanted, swigging at lyrium potions.

"_First we deal with this one,_" growled Orsino, nodding at the apostate who had murdered the Grand Cleric and endangered them all. "_Then we sound the drums of war!_"

"_Savages! Savages!_" cried the Templars as they formed their ranks.

"_Let's go kill a few, men!_" urged Cullen, swept up in the rage. It was just like in Ferelden.

"_Savages! Savages!_"

"_Now it's up to you, men!_" shouted Meredith.

Then came the same resounding chant from both sides of the war torn city.

"_Savages! Savages! Barely even human! Now we sound the drums of war!_"

* * *

Hawke's armoured feet pounded on the earth as she sprinted toward the Gallows. The others followed her, weapons drawn, ready. She had to reach there in time. She had to protect the mages. She had to stand with her people. With Anders.

In front of the Gallows, Meredith stood at the head of a legion of Templars. "_This will be the day..._" she called. "_Let's go, men!_"

Inside, Orsino was regarding the mages who had stayed to fight. "_This will be the evening..._" he promised. "_Ready yourselves, my friends._"

"_We will see them dying in the dust,_" both sides swore.

Hawke's mind would not stop ticking as she ran. _I don't know what I can do_, she thought, desperately. _Still, I know I've got to try_.

"_Now we make 'em pay!_" cried the Templars.

_Father, help my feet to fly_, she prayed, thinking of Malcolm's passion when he spoke of freedom. She would see that done.

"_Now, without a warning..._" threatened the waiting mages.

_Mother, help my heart be great_, thought Hawke, envisioning Leandra's arms around her, her comforting whisper.

"_Now we leave 'em blood and bone and rust!_" shrieked the armies.

_Spirits of Beth and Carver…_ she thought, remembering Bethany wielding fire like gauntlets, or Carver delivering blow after blow to the darkspawn in the Deep Roads.

"_It's them or us!_"

_Please don't let it be too late..._

"_They're just a bunch of filthy, stinking –_ " roared the armies as they approached each other.

"_Savages!_" Swords pointed to the sky.

"_Savages!_" Lights burst at the ends of staffs.

"_Demons!_"

"_Slavers!_"

"_Kill them!_" cried Meredith.

"_Savages!_"

"_Savages!_"

"_What are we waiting for?_" thundered Meredith, pointing her sword at the mages.

"_Destroy their evil race!_" both sides chanted, almost primal in their hatred for each other. "_Until there's not a trace left!_" Snarls distorted faces, aggressive stances lowered bodies to the ground.

_How loud are the drums of war?_ Hawke's mind seemed to cry in fear and fury. This shouldn't have come to this.

"_We will sound the drums of war!_"

"_Savages! Savages!_"

"_Now, we sound the drums of war!_"

"_Savages! Savages!_"

"_Now we see what comes of trying to be chums,_" sneered Meredith, thinking of Thrask and his pitiful attempts to stand up for these animals.

"_Now we sound the drums of war!_" retorted the mages.

"_Of course it means the drums of war!_"

_Is the death of all I love_, whispered Hawke's mind, _carried in the drumming of war?_

As the armies came within a few feet of each other, Hawke threw herself between them, narrowly avoiding Meredith's blade, and standing with her chest heaving, eyes narrowed, and staff drawn.

"If you fight these mages… You'll have to fight me, too."

-0-0-0-0-

_**I imagine the bit where you talk to your companions (and Anders returns, if you didn't kill him) to be the part where Pocahontas talks to Grandmother Willow. **_

_**Sorry if that got a little difficult to read. Funny, really, you type 'savages' so many times you start reading it as 'sausages'. (They're sausages, sausages! Barely even meat filled! Now we sound the pan to fry!)**_

_**Sorry. **_

_**Up Next: Leliana and the Warden become closer in the peace the evening brings.**_


	21. Can You Feel The Love Tonight?

_**This I've had a few requests/suggestions for this one, but my favourite was hotrod 333's idea of M!Cousland and Leliana. I've made it as an any-background M!Warden, for ease of others readers. Also, I've used the Broadway version – I saw the show not so long ago, and loved how this drew the song to a close. AND, the male/female roles have been reversed; I found the reversed lines fitted the characters better. Enjoy :)**_

**Can You Feel The Love Tonight? (The Lion King) – M! Warden & Leliana**

A deep voice, and a girlish giggle from beyond the tents. Alistair sighed heavily, and poked the fire morosely. The Warden's Mabari padded over to him and sat down, equally as heavily. Alistair rubbed the space between the dog's ears with his knuckles, and it leaned into him. They got on surprisingly well, now. It was always Alistair, Dog, and Warden. Easy.

Or, it used to be.

It was his fellow Warden's turn to stay on watch that evening. Of course, the Orlesian had jumped at the chance. Alistair was a bit suspicious of Orlesians. He wasn't sure whether that was his father coming out in him, or Isolde's influence. And he especially didn't like the way the bard was fluttering her eyelashes at his friend.

"_I can see what's happening,_" he grumbled, not caring that he was unloading his troubles to a dog.

The Mabari cocked his head and whined, curiously.

"_And they don't have a clue._"

The dog yapped, as if to say 'Who's that?'

"_They'll fall in love,_" explained Alistair, wearily, "_and here's the bottom line: our trio's down to two._"

The dog whimpered.

"_The sweet caress of twilight,_" he acted out, mimicking Leliana's fruity, Orlesian tones. "_There's magic everywhere! And with all this romantic atmosphere…Disaster's in the air!_"

Out of the camp, by the tent, bard and warden were gazing at each other. The trees and plants themselves almost seemed to whisper to themselves.

If you could have heard them, they'd have been singing sweetly about the two at their feet. "_Can you feel the love tonight?_" they asked each other, tenderly. "_The peace the evening brings? The world at once in perfect harmony with all its living things._"

Down on the ground, Leliana was twisting a scarlet braid around a slim finger. She so wanted to be with him. To tell him everything. He had understood everything she had told him so far – her beliefs about the Maker, her dream, her need for escape…. "_So many things to tell him,_" she thought, desperately, as an uncommon, though not uncomfortable, silence fell between them. "_But how to make him see? The truth about my past? Impossible… He'd turn away from me!_"

The Warden gazed at the beautiful woman next to him. She was full of light and laughter, and smiles and stories. But she was also full of lies and secrets. It didn't hurt him, or anger him – everyone had deep, dark secrets, he believed, and had a right to them – but he wished that she trusted him enough to tell him. He trusted her with everything. Maybe a little too much. "_She's holding back, she's hiding,_" he thought, sadly. "_But what, I can't decide.  
Why can't she be the bard I know she is, the bard I see inside?_"

"_Can you feel the love tonight?_" the air seemed to whisper around them, as they smiled tentatively at each other. "_The peace the evening brings? The world at once in perfect harmony with all its living things._"

The Warden's fingers gently brushed over Leliana's hand. She looked up, light eyes wide, and he smiled at her. The bard blushed, and clasped her free hand around his.

"_Can you feel the love tonight?_" came the voice of the trees and the crickets. "_You needn't look too far. Stealing through the night's uncertainties, love is where they are…_"

If the treetops would have looked down – and perhaps they were – they would have seen a red head buried in a dark shoulder, and hands entwined around each other. There were few words between the two. There was no need for them.

"And if she feels the love tonight," thought the Warden, pensively, and he stroked Leliana's red gold hair, "in the same way I do –"

"Then it's enough for this restless wanderer -" replied Leliana, bashfully, and he realised with some chagrin that he had spoken out loud.

But one look down at her face, at her knowing, trusting smile, chased the embarrassment away.

"Just to be with you," they finished, together. He drew his arms tighter around her, and planted a gentle kiss on the crown of her head.

They would tell each other everything, eventually. Just, maybe not now.

-0-0-0-0-

_**I apologise if this wasn't great. I'm not very good with fluff.**_

_**And also, the whole hippy-talking-trees bit is a part of the Broadway show. Maybe it's tree spirits, or something. Witherfang?**_

_**Up next: The Warden Commander gets down to business with his inept recruits.**_


	22. I'll Make A Man Out Of You

_**This was asked a **__**lot**__** for Duncan, but I couldn't work out what time frame to put it in. Pre-Warden's Joining? Pre-Ostagar? Alistair's Joining? I wasn't sure. I did consider a multi-origin scene, but it still seemed a bit off.**_

_**Another requested was Cullen addressing the Templars – that was really tempting, but then I realised just how many mage/Templar ficlets I'd written, and thought I'd go with Awakening as a bit of a change. I'm replaying it at the moment, and also reliving my love for Nathaniel Howe. He's just so... disapproving. :L**_

_**Hope you all approve! :S**_

**I'll Make A Man Out Of You (Mulan) – The Warden Commander**

The man narrowed his eyes as he marched up and down the line of soldiers. There was something quelling in his gaze, something burning and ancient, though the Warden was only a young man, maybe in his mid-twenties.

"Well then?" he growled. "Get to it!"

He had shot an arrow into the top of a massive wooden pillar, and ordered each recruit to retrieve it. Oghren and Sigrun had swore. Anders had begun laughing. Velanna huffed. Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. But now the Commander was standing, waiting, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

Oghren went first, and, after scoring several marks in the wood with his teeth and nails, fell flat. Then Nathaniel, whose face, after falling comically on his head, was burning with embarrassment. Then Sigrun, who fell so heavily on her rear end the pillar wobbled. Then Anders, who limped away, rubbing his back and muttering.

The Commander rubbed his neck, sighing in exasperation. "We've got a long way to go," he groaned, closing his eyes. Archdemons were much easier.

Stepping in front of the group, all looking suitably worried, he threw each a spear. He glared, and flourished his own. "_Let's get down to business!_" he commanded. "_To defeat darkspawn. Do you want to be here, or do you want to run?_"

The recruits glanced at Nathaniel. It was no secret that the Commander had conscripted him in, when everyone else had wanted to join. The Commander seemed to realise this, and stepped closer. "_You're the strangest bunch I've ever met,_" he admitted, scathingly, pulling the spear out of Anders' hands and grabbing the collar of his robes, "_but you can bet before it's through… Mister I'll make a man out of you!_"

Anders gulped.

Beckoning them away, the Commander led his recruits to the nearby woodland. "_Tranquil as a forest!_" he directed, successfully shooting three moving targets with his bow at once. "_But on fire within. Once you find your centre, you are sure to win._" He shook his head as everyone but Nathaniel failed to hit a single one. "_You're a spineless, pale, pathetic lot,_" he spat, but clapping Nathaniel's shoulder as he passed. "_And you haven't got a clue! Bet you I'll make a man out of you._"

And they weren't the only tests. The challenges got more and more gruelling, pushing rogue, warrior and mage to the limit.

"_I'm never gonna catch my breath,_" panted Velanna as she frantically dodged the fiery, magical bullets being pelted at her.

"_Say goodbye to those who knew me,_" grunted Sigrun, wincing as one caught her on the backside.

"_Boy, was a fool in school for cutting gym,_" cursed Nathaniel as he nearly broke his hand trying to punch through a wooden block.

"_This guy's got them to death!_" commented the Seneschal, looking in anxiously on the training session.

"_Hope he doesn't he right through me,_" wished Anders, silently, as he was propelled backwards into the armour racks by a forceful punch from the Commander.

"_Now, I really wish that I knew how to swim!_" yelled Oghren, feeling slightly green as his short legs almost missed the steps across the makeshift river.

"_Be a man!_" the recruits chanted, panting between press-ups.

"_You must be swift as a coursing river,_" instructed the Commander, stepping between them.

"_Be a man!_"

"_With all the force of a great typhoon._"

"_Be a man!_"

"_With all the strength of a raging fire, mysterious as the dark side of the moon!_" The Commander held his head in his hands as the recruits traipsed back, stinking, sweating and panting, to their quarters. There was no time for this. They had to be ready, and the had to be ready soon. The Orlesian reinforcements were dead. The Amaranthine post had no choice.

So, he told them.

"_Time is racing toward us,_" he shouted, impatiently, "_till the horde arrives! Heed my every order, and you might survive…_"

He surveyed the recruits, his face serious. He would have to wait for backup from Weisshaupt. These were not ready. "_You must be suited for the rage of war; or pack up, go home, it's through,_" he informed them, desolately. "_How could I make a man out of you?_"

Anders' face set at the words. No. He was a mage and a Grey Warden, and he'd be damned if he was going to be sent back to the Templars to have a brand smacked on his forehead and his thoughts forcibly removed. As others left, he glared at the pillar, its arrow still glinting sneeringly at the top. Gritting his teeth, he willed his magic.

When the Commander came in, he saw the mage, sitting proudly atop the pillar, throwing the arrow at his feet. He grinned. That was it.

The recruits filed back in, and the Commander had never seen a change happen so quickly. Oghren was leaping nimbly across the river; Velanna and Sigrun were leaping and sprinting deftly through the fire; Nathaniel broke several wooden planks in quick succession; and then, Anders landed a punch on his jaw so squarely that it made the Commander see stars for a moment.

"_Be a man!_" came a rousing cheer from the guards' barracks, who had been watching in horror at the Wardens' 'training'.

"_You must be swift as a coursing river!_" answered the newly honoured Wardens and their Commander, victoriously.

"_Be a man!_"

"_With all the force of a great typhoon!_"

"_Be a man!_"

"_With all the strength of a raging fire – mysterious as the dark side of the moon!_"

The Wardens finished their training, brandishing their weapons, their faces set in challenge. The Commander smiled. They were ready to take on the horde. They were ready for anything.

-0-0-0-0-

_**I changed the 'you're not suited for the rage of war' part, since I don't think any of them were worse than the others :L**_

_**I advise everyone to listen to the Mandarin Chinese version of this song. It is sung by JACKIE. FRICKIN'. CHAN. So go listen to it. Now.**_

_ : Hahaha, it actually did look like that :S Pinocchio is good, I shall get researching! _

_LunaCangiante: Thank you! Glad you're enjoying :)_

_Dafuq4me: (great name, btw) That's a brilliant idea! God, I love tumblr... Will get to work right away :D_

_Sakura Lisel: That is absolutely amazing. I was staring at the lyrics to that the other day wondering how to do it. Thank you! Also, I love your idea about the mirror messing with Merrill's mind. There was such a personality change between the Dalish Origin and DA2, I like to think there is a reason, other than Bioware's lack of continuity :S_

_the sister of the anime bros: D'aww, thank you :3 I'm getting all these warm fuzzy feelings! I am delighted that you like these so much - you make a little Disney fiend very happy indeed :')_

_**Up Next: Carver promises his mother that he'll make her proud, no matter what.**_


	23. Proud Of Your Boy

_**This is dedicated to Griffindell, who suggested it. First thing – you have now made me obsess over this song! Second – thank you for vicariously introducing me to Clay Aiken. I'm now in love with his voice.**_

_**This song was originally in Aladdin, but was cut when the story was restructured. As it was written by Menken and Ashman, I think it still qualifies as a Disney song, and it's beautiful. And means more love for my favourite Junior Hawke. You could consider this a follow up to Chapter 10, Reflection.**_

**Proud Of Your Boy (Aladdin – cut) – Carver Hawke**

Carver had been surprised at his mother's reaction to his choice to join the Templars. Her face had fallen, but she'd taken him into her arms for the first time in years.

"Are you sure?" she had asked, pensively.

"Yes, " Carver had replied, assuredly. "I have to – I've been living Marian's life for too long. I've got to… to find my own way."

Leandra nodded, biting her lip. Marian did that, too, thought Carver, when she was nervous. Though he had been bitter, angry, furious that his older sister hadn't thought he was qualified enough for the Deep Roads. But maybe it was the best thing she'd ever done for him. He wasn't going to be her shadow anymore. Even if that meant joining the thing she hated most. He wasn't going to let mad mages like that Anders destroy the only place he had left to call home.

Leandra was gazing at him. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, rubbing his neck. "Thing is," he muttered, "they want me to move into the barracks tomorrow."

Leandra gave a strangled gasp. "I understand," she whispered. Carver cursed inwardly. He hadn't considered that she would be alone, and there was still the chance that Marian wouldn't return from the Deep Roads. He quashed the sick feeling that rose at that. He'd already lost one sister, he couldn't –

No. He was leaving this behind.

But one look at his mother's face, and all he saw was her fear. "Mother," he said, softly, helping her into the chair by the fire. "I'll be alright. I need this. I need to…"

He fumbled for the right words. Leandra watched him, sadly.

"_Proud of your boy,_" he said, kneeling on the floor next to her. "_I'll make you proud of your boy. Believe me, bad as I've been, Ma, you're in for a pleasant surprise._"

Leandra chuckled softly. Carver's shoulders slumped. "_I've wasted time,_" he admitted, "_I've wasted me._" He snorted. "_So say I'm slow for my age, a late bloomer, okay, I agree_." He looked down. "_I've been one rotten kid… Some son, some pride and some joy. But I'll get over these lousing up, messing up, screwing up times!_"

He looked up again, holding his mother's hands, tightly. "Y_ou'll see, Ma, now comes the better part – someone's gonna make good, cross his stupid heart!_" he promised, earnestly. "_Make good and finally make you proud of your boy._"

Leandra opened her mouth to speak, but Carver hushed her, standing and pacing along the sparsely furnished room. "_Tell me that I've been a louse and a loafer,_" he urged, "_you won't get a fight here, no ma'am._" He turned back to her, desperately. "_Say I'm a goldbrick, a goof-off, no good, but that couldn't be all that I am!_"

He threw his arms in the air. She had to see that he was doing this for her as much as he was for himself. "_Water flows under the bridge, let it pass, let it go!_" he almost shouted, silently pleading for her to see past the idiot he used to be. "_There's no good reason that you should believe me, not yet, I know, but…_"

He knelt by her again, gazing up into her eyes as he had done countless times as a child. "_Someday and soon, I'll make you proud of your boy!_" he vowed, attempting a smile. "_Though I can't make myself taller or smarter or handsome or wise – I'll do my best, what else can I do?_" He gave a short, soft laugh. "_I wasn't born perfect like Dad or you… Ma, I will try to – try hard – to make you proud of your boy._"

There were tears in Leandra's eyes as she embraced her only son. Carver knew that she understood. He held her tightly, feeling, for the first time, that maybe – just maybe – she would finally see him as his own man.

And besides – if he was a Templar, no mad blood mage would ever hurt her. He wouldn't let them.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Even if you've never heard the song, go YouTube it. It's beautiful.**_

_**I probably love Carver too much. He's the only reason I ever play as a mage. Who are your favourite characters from the DA Universe? I'm curious! Mine are Carver, Zevran, and Nathaniel. And Shale. Who doesn't love Shale?**_

_hotrod 333: I'm getting written soon! Hopefully it will be posted within the next few chapters :) hang in there! Also, thank you very much :)_

_Apollo. wings - I'm sorry, I only realise way after -_- I've put a space in now, hehehe :P_

_Ously Salvation - Oh, stop it, you :3 thanks very much, though :D_

_Prime24601 - Hahaha, a fun ride indeed, hopefully :3_

**_IMPORTANT MESSAGE  
_****_It isn't really. Or it might be. Anyway.  
I've got a poll up on my account so you guys can take a role in choosing which scenarios. These will be posted periodically if I have a song with a load of great suggestion and I'm stuck between them; instead, I'm asking you to choose instead! I'll let you know when a poll is posted and/or closed, so please give an author a hand and VOTE NOW! Hehe, I sound like an American voting commercial :L_**

_**Up Next: Cullen cannot escape the fire that burns in his skin.**_


	24. Hellfire

_**Dedicated to hotrod 333 for their patience (it's finally here, hope you enjoy!), and also to Prime24601 and Sakura for their ideas :)**_

_**I wanted to put Heaven's Light in with this, but couldn't quite work out to do it. So, here is possibly Disney's all-time best villain song, sung by darling Cullen. 'She', by the way, is a female mage Warden. Whom Cullen fancies. Also, the bits sung by the Chanters are the same lines sung by the priests in the film. I've translated them into English and filled them out a bit so they'll fit. **_

_**Warning: slight (and I mean very slight) adult references. Nothing remotely explicit or even that bad, but I thought I'd let you know. After all, it would have been very hard to write this without them. **_

**Hellfire (The Hunchback of Notre Dame) - Cullen**

The Chanters were kneeling before the altar, their incense wafting in front of them like a will-o'-the-wisp. Cullen watched them from the chapel doorway, his whole body tensed. He was still reeling from the horrors he had seen. Maybe reeling wasn't the word. You could forget something that made you reel. But this – no. This had invaded and plundered his mind, made so many cuts and wounds in his soul that it was now riddled with scars.

"_I confess to our great Maker almighty,_" the priests chanted. He mimed the words with him, knowing the Chant of Clemency as well as the back of his hands. "_To blessed Andraste, ever His bride. To the blessed warriors who fought the darkness. To the holy armies; to all of His saints._"

Cullen made his way to the fire across the Chapel. It drew him like a flame, its warmth tender on his chilled gooseflesh, its flames licking at the grate almost subtly. Though it was another imagined warmth that had filled his mind, another illusory touch that had maddened him. Cullen shook his head, violently, as if to rid himself of thoughts of her. "_Andraste, Maker's bride,_" he prayed, quietly. "_You know I am a righteous man. Of my virtue I am justly proud,_" he told the flames, as if saying the words out loud would make them true.

"_And to you, Maker,_" chorused the Chanters behind him.

"_Andraste, Maker's bride,_" he repeated, resting his elbow on the mantle and his face against his hand. "_You know I'm so much purer than the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd._" That wasn't gloating, he told himself. It was true. All Templars were purer than the rest. It was part of who they were.

"_That I have sinned in your eyes…_"

Behind Cullen's closed eyelids, he saw her. Wearing those damned robes which covered everything yet withheld nothing. Her damned eyes, her damned hair, her _everything_. Her figure, waltzing down the corridors with that _blood mage_. Her shy smile when he had congratulated her on passing her Harrowing. The smile that she only wore for him.

_No_. Cullen pressed his palms further in to eyes as if he could push those images from his mind. She was a Grey Warden. And worse. A mage. "_Then tell me, Andraste,_" he begged, desperately, "_why I see her dancing there. Why her smouldering eyes still scorch my soul._"

That was worse. Now all he could see was the way she had looked at him when he was in his mana-fuelled prison, her face spattered with blood and those eyes filled with pity and anger and horror and, oh Maker, was that _remorse_ – ?

"_In my deepest, unclean thoughts,_" chanted the priests, and the part of Cullen's mind that didn't feel unravelled as a piece of old rope registered the near-foreign concept of irony.

"_I feel her,_" he confessed, opening his eyes, hoping that the images would go away. "_I see her! The sun caught in raven hair is blazing in me… out of all control._"

"_In my words and my deeds…_"

They didn't go away. She was in the flames, fiery hair swirling about her, orange-red hands curling toward him, beckoning. "_Like fire,_" breathed Cullen, gazing at the figure, "_hellfire! This fire in my skin…_" Dear Maker, he hoped this was imagination. Then again, if it wasn't, she'd be gone from his mind. "_This burning desire is turning me to sin!_"

She was growing. She was no longer restrained to the hearth, but she filled the wall, her flaming arms reaching out around the room. Cullen backed away from the heat she threw out, heat like the surface of the sun, heat that felt as if it would burn him as surely as her gaze.

"_It's not my fault!_" he cried.

"_It is my fault,_" chanted the priests, still lost in their sermon. But their voices – sweet Andraste, their voices were so loud, so cruel, spitting judgement at him. Cullen wrapped his hands around his head, trying to block them out.

"_I'm not to blame!_"

"_It is my fault._"

"_It is the mage woman!_" he sobbed, the anger he had learned to nurture in his prison flaring in his gut. "_The witch who sent this flame!_"

"_It is my most grievous fault._"

"_It's not my fault!_"

"_It is my fault._"

"_If in His plan, he made the demons so much stronger than a man!_" he snarled, remembering the foul visions they had slipped into his mind.

"_It is my most grievous fault._"

Looking out from his arms, Cullen saw that the room had returned to normal. She was gone from the fire. The fire had gone from the room. The Chanters were speaking in their normal voices – muted, soft. How much of this had been the residue of those waking nightmares?

"_Protect me, Andraste!_" he pleaded, his rage twisting itself like a hot fist around his heart. "_Don't let this siren cast her spell. Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone!_" He knew – he _knew_ – that the moment he returned to the ground level, to Greagoir and his comrades, that he would see her. He doubted whether he would restrain himself if that was the case. Whether he would kiss her or kill her, he didn't know. But he had to know. He had to cleanse himself of this sinful infatuation once and for all. "_Destroy the mage woman!_" he growled, "_and let her taste the fires of hell!_" He faltered, his old naivety returning for a glimpse of a second. Then it hardened into cold steel, a newly-forged blade being sunk into iced water. "_Or else let her be mine,_" he growled, "_and mine alone!_"

As he glowered into the fire, breathing heavily, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Spinning, reaching automatically for his sword, he saw one of the mages who had – supposedly – resisted Uldred's insanity. He was almost cowering before the Templar, a small streak of blood staining the left side of his face scarlet, as if someone had swiped a bloody tongue over the skin –

Cullen narrowed his eyes. This was her fault.

"Ser Cullen," he stammered, and Cullen was vaguely reminded of his own former idiocy. "The Wardens have left."

Cullen's brows knitted together. "What?" he breathed, incredulously.

"No longer in the tower," the young mage quivered. "They've gone. Greagoir told me to tell you…"

"But why?" Cullen asked, half to himself. The mage opened his mouth, but Cullen waved a gauntleted hand before his face before he could speak. "Never mind," he growled. "Get out."

He turned back to the fire as the mage stumbled away, nodding furiously. "I don't need her," he muttered, venomously. "I don't need her, or any of her filthy kind."

In his mind, he saw the blood mages dragging his friends into the room. Odo and Willem hadn't returned. He'd heard their screams. Now he imagined her standing among them, her laugh mutating into a bloodthirsty cackle. His hands shook as he clutched the mantle. "_Hellfire!_" he spat, his jaw set in hatred. "_Dark fire! Now mages, it's your turn._" He felt, more than saw, in his mind how his blade would feel sinking through every damned maleficar's flesh. Through hers. "_You're building your pyre – submit or you will burn!_"

"_Maker, please have mercy,_" chanted the priests, approaching the end of the sermon.

"_Maker,_" breathed Cullen, shaking his head, "_have mercy on her._"

"_Maker, please have mercy._"

"_Maker, have mercy on me._"

"_Maker, please have mercy._"

Cullen looked up from the fire, turning away and walking purposefully away from the chapel. He felt heavy, as if his soul had been turned to lead by the fire. And the lead was hot as a forge. "_But they will submit,_" he snarled, his voice carrying through the debris cluttered stone corridor. "_Or they will burn!_"

-0-0-0-0-

_**Lyrics toward the end changed a bit, seeing as Cullen never went on any bloodthirsty, lust-fuelled rampage trying to find Amell/Surana after the Tower incident. Nope, he just turned into Meredith's lapdog. **__**Nice one, Templar.**_

_**Author's Note - By way of writing this, I attempted to use more poetry in this chapter. The original scene is so epic, I thought a simple 'he did this and then he said this' wouldn't quite convey that. Hope it worked!**_

_hotrod333 - glad you enjoyed, I try to keep everything varied :)_

_Apollo - I was thinking the same song, but I wasn't sure about characters. LOVE IT! :D_

_Griffindell - Glad you enjoyed! Very fulfilling fiCelt to write, I think :)_

_**Up Next: It suddenly becomes clear that Anders will never be one of Hawke's allies.**_


	25. Not One Of Us

_**This was requested by an anonymous reviewer, but whoever it was, thanks! I was desperate to do this, but struggling for a character! Or, maybe you're just called Anon. Anyway, thank you! :)**_

_**Also: this Hawke is the same Garret I've used before, Mr Male Warrior. **_

**Not One Of Us (The Lion King II) – Anders**

Anders felt Hawke's eyes burning into his back. A horrible, tense silence that seemed to ring with hurt fell over them now Hawke had finished his piece.

"Get out," said Hawke, hollowly. There was none of the fire in his words now, none of the passion or even sarcasm. It was just… dead. So much so that it took Anders a while to register the words.

"What?" he breathed. He had expected death, at the very least. He had been Hawke's friend for almost ten years, and he knew that forgiveness was not his style.

"You heard me," murmured Hawke. His voice suddenly steeled. "Go!"

Standing, and turning to face him, Anders saw his friend's face. His mouth was twisted in a grimace, his eyes wide. His shoulders were shaking. He was beyond furious, Anders knew that. But there was more. That look in his eyes. He'd betrayed him.

Anders suddenly became aware of the people surrounding him closing in. Orsino's mages. Hawke's companions. _His friends. _He began backing away, looking desperately from face to face.

"_Deception,_" whispered Hawke, hoarsely.

"_Disgrace,_" spat Orsino, his eyes hard as iron on Anders.

"_Evil as plain as the sparks on his face!_" growled Sebastian. Anders turned and saw his usually calm, passive expression distort in hatred.

"_Deception._"

"_An outrage!_" remarked a group of mages, glaring at him, hands white-knuckled on their staffs.

"_Disgrace!_"

"_For shame!_" they shook their heads at him, scowling.

Then the low, gravelly voice of the elf. "_He asked for trouble the moment he came,_" muttered Fenris, darkly, to Hawke.

"_Deception,_" repeated Hawke, still gazing at Anders.

Even Aveline was staring him, her solid green eyes clouded with disgust. "_He can't change his stripes,_" she told Hawke, flatly.

"_An outrage!_"

"_Disgrace!_"

"_You know these extremist types,_" the Guard Captain urged her friend, shaking her red head at the mage.

"_For shame!_"

"_Evil as plain as the sparks on his face,_" came Sebastian's thick accent through the chants.

Then he saw Isabela. He thought she would understand. She'd left, hadn't she? She'd made mistakes. But she shook her head, sneering. "_See ya later, agitator!_" she hissed, with more venom in her voice than Anders had thought possible.

"_Deception…_"

"_Just leave us alone!_" shouted Alain, the dark skinned mage who stood, reeling, behind Orsino. He looked as if he were about to cry. Of course. He was one of the cowards who welcomed the Chantry's evil.

"_Disgrace!_"

"_For shame!_"

"_Demon, go back with your own!_" he yelled, again, tears spilling into his voice.

"_He asked for trouble the moment he came,_" came Fenris' voice again, low beneath the others'.

"_See ya later, agitator!_"

Anders stepped back as the entire crowd began stepping toward him, weapons raised. What was worst, was how Hawke was leading them.

"_Raised in grief,_" they chanted, "_crazed by hate. Helpless to defy his fate. Let him run, let him live – but do not forget what we cannot forgive!_"

Anders began running as Hawke raised his sword. Mage fire licked at his heels as he fled like a dog. Tears stung his eyes as he heard the voices of those he had called friends burning worse than any flame could.

"_And he is not one of us!_" they spat, their voices raised in agreement. Agreement in hatred. Hatred of Anders. "_He has never been one of us! He is not part of us – not our kind!_" Arrows embedded themselves in the floor at his feet as he turned, to stare at them.

"_Someone once killed for us – now, we're not so blind,_" said the mages, and Anders' memory seemed to be flung back to Uldred and his abominations. The Tower. Kinloch Hold. He'd seen the dead and worse. He'd tended to them. Put them out of their misery, even.

I'm no better, thought Anders, numbly.

"_For we knew he would do what he's done,_" came the voices of his pursuers, in tones that clawed at his skin. "_And we know that he'll never be one of us!_"

"_He is not one of us,_" a sad voice echoed around the flaming buildings. A dark head appeared through the crowd, its darker eyes gazing in fear at him, and its hand took hold of her brother's. Bethany. Anders felt his knees shake. What had he done?

One last look at his old friends, and he was running. He didn't know where, but he had to leave. Somewhere where he wouldn't hurt anyone ever again.

But it was as if Hawke's and Orsino's words were scratched into his memory, repeating over and over again like a horse's feet.

"_Deception._"

I'm sorry, he thought. I'm so sorry.

"_Disgrace._"

I had to do something.

"_Deception._"

I couldn't tell you!

"_Disgrace._"

What would you have done?

"_Deception…_"

It was with these words in his mind that Anders slipped back into the Gallows hours later. He would pay for his crimes. In blood, if he had to.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Sorry if this was just difficult to read. Hope you enjoyed, either way!**_

_**Up Next: Danarius finds Fenris' new companions far inferior to himself.**_


	26. Only Second Rate

_**Dedicated to Sakura for an excellent idea that I've just gotten around to writing. :) Hope it lives up to your standards! :D**_

_**Features Mr Mage Hawke. Because he's cool. :L**_

**Only Second Rate (Aladdin 2: The Return Of Jafar) - Danarius**

It had happened so quickly, Hawke wondered if the magister hadn't just appeared from nowhere.

Hawke looked quickly to the elf, and felt his stomach jerk uncomfortably. Fenris, who merely raised his eyebrows at dragons, was gazing, terrified and transfixed, at the leering old man at the foot of the stairs.

"And this is your new master, then?" sneered Danarius, resting a hand on Varania's shoulder. The elven woman flinched almost invisibly, and the grip tightened. "The Champion of Kirkwall? Impressive." Hawke's lip curled as the old man's eyes raked over him, lingering on the staff strapped to his back. They then travelled across to Merrill, who gazed at him with wide, mossy eyes, and then Anders, whose own, darker gaze narrowed at the blood mage's leer.

"Fenris doesn't belong to anyone," Hawke growled in response, understanding at last the hatred Fenris felt for the man.

Danarius chuckled sadistically. "Do I detect a note of jealousy?" he smirked, an almost knowing look in his colourless eyes. "It's not surprising. The lad is rather… _skilled_, isn't he?"

"Shut your mouth, Danarius," Fenris suddenly snarled, his markings igniting in blue rage.

"The word," the man sighed, sweeping the staff from his back, "is _master_."

Every battle starts with a single action, and that word was it. Swords were sweeping through air and flesh uncaringly, sparks were flying from staves and hands, blue light ghosted over Fenris.

Danarius was laughing to himself in the corner. "You could be great, mages such as yourselves," he chuckled. Hawke glowered, shooting a bolt of ice at the man, who brushed it aside as it if were a speck of dust. "_I must admit,_" he sneered, "_your parlour tricks are amusing. I bet you've got a bunny under your hat!_" His tone was condescending as Hawke raised his staff again. "_Now here's your chance to get the best of me – hope your hand is hot! C'mon, clown, let's see what you've got!_"

Fenris joined the battle between the two – Anders and Merrill were busy battering the mercenaries – with pure hatred on his features. This only made Danarius laugh harder as he stood uncaringly behind his mana shield. "_You try to slam me with your hardest stuff,_" he laughed, "_but your double whammy isn't up to snuff!_" Fenris' sword bounced harmlessly from the wall of magic, and the elf swore colourfully. "_I'll set the record straight,_" derided the magister. "_You're simply out of date, you're only second rate!_"

He turned to Hawke, motioning to Fenris with his head. _"You think your dog's a fighter, but your wolf is tame. You've got a lot to learn about the 'master' game,_" he said, shaking his head. Fenris roared, while Danarius moved easily through the crowd of fighters, smirking. "_So for your information, I'll reiterate – you're only second rate!_"

A nod between the elf and human, and Hawke blasted the shield with lightning. It rebounded, hitting a Tevinter soldier in the back of the head, and he fell with a crack to the floor, body jerking. Looking up, Hawke saw Danarius flick his wrist, and Merrill's half-ethereal rock armour being pummelled by an invisible force.

"_Men cower at the power in my pinky,_" gloated Danarius, stopping his assault on the elf girl as Fenris sliced through a soldier's army with ease. "_My thumb is number one on every list. But if you're not convinced that I'm invincible, put me to the test!_" He cackled, waving his arms mockingly. "_I'd love to lay this rivalry to rest!_"

Dropping the shield, he waved his staff. At his command, a horde of shades, demons and other horrors seemed to splinter and grow from the ground, making their way to Fenris and Hawke. "_Go ahead and zap me with the big surprise!_" mocked Danarius, a sick smile playing on his lips as he drew a lazy cut across his palm. "_Snap me in a trap, cut me down to size! I'll make a big escape, it's just a piece of cake – you're only second rate!_"

As the demons were beaten back down into the depths they called home, Fenris turned to see blood spurting from his old master's hands. He was staring at Hawke. He knew why. Hawke was a powerful mage. A good-looking young man. Someone that Danarius could mould if he could break their spirit first. He shook his head, raising his blade. No, Hawke would never allow that.

"_You know, your hocus-pocus isn't tough enough!_" shouted Danarius, scornfully. "_And your mumbo-jumbo doesn't measure up!_" He raised his shield again, circling Hawke as he did so. "_Let me pontificate,_" he taunted, "_upon your sorry state, you're only second rate!_"

The magister began murmuring in Arcanum. "_Demon's gonna grab ya!_" he cackled as a shade appeared behind – and was subsequently beaten down by – Fenris. Again with the Arcanum. "_And this thing's bigger than the both of us!_" roared Danarius, pointing his staff at Hawke.

"_So spare me your tremendous scare!_" he threatened Fenris, who stood, paralysed, on a glyph. "_Your markings look horrific, there!_" Fenris snarled, wanting nothing more than to snap the leering old mage's neck.

"_And I can hardly wait,_" screeched the magister, turning back to Hawke, Aveline and Merrill, "_to discombobulate – I'll send ya back and packing in a shipping crate!_" He laughed out loud as Merrill tripped over a corpse, forcing her spell to collide with the wall. "_You'll make a better living with a spinning plate,_" he snorted. "_You're only second rate!_"

That was when the glyph finally freed Fenris, and his gauntleted fingers closed over the man's flabby, pale neck.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Last request for a while, I'm quite busy with college and other things. So, the next few ficlets will be my own choice (pre-written), and I will upload suggestions as they're written :)**_

_**Also, please keep reviewing! They're really appreciated, even if it;s just to let me know that you liked/disliked a chapter. Reviews make better writers, after all :)**_

_Apollo - thank you! Glad you think so :) I have two Pinocchio's on the way, I'm just deciding on characters :)_

_DivineStorms - Thank you very much hun! Glad you're enjoying :D_

_Sakura - You knew it was ;D Well, I started off this series with about twelve already written. I write requests as and when they come, if I have time and/or if I'm in the mood for writing (sometime's I just can't face sitting typing) and write the others as they come to me. I post these once a day (unless I'm otherwise engaged) mainly to avoid having an empty queue, and also since it gives me time to get everything else done inbetween. Haha, bit of a long winded explanation there - basically, it's easier for me and keeps a steady supply :P_

_hotrod 333 - sure can, I'll add it to the list :)_

_the sister of the anime bros - It's because you're awesome. ;D and leave me lovely reviews and great ideas! Thanks again :)_

_**Up Next: Anders tries to explain to Fenris how the mages feel about their magic.**_


	27. Colours Of The Wind

_**These lyrics are **__**incredibly**__** changed, so much so that it's more like a Weird Al Yankovic version. But, hopefully it still channels Pocahontas. Again, one of my favourite Disney's, so I hope I've done it justice. No pun intended.**_

**Colours Of The Wind (Pocahontas) – Anders**

"You are a mage," growled the elf. "You cannot be trusted! None of you can!"

"And you would know about that, would you?" asked Anders, trying to keep his calm. 'Trying' being the operative. Hawke had seen it best to make her two friends – despite being almost sworn enemies themselves – travel together to find the silverite vein they'd come across a few weeks ago. Needless to say, it had turned into an argument. Anders, however, was under strict instructions to 'stay calm and be nice'.

"You are not like anyone else! You are – "

"We're not like you," sighed Anders. He glared at Fenris, reminding himself of his promise to Hawke. Maybe it was time to explain, instead of argue. The elf was hunching his shoulders and scowling, his brow furrowed. How could Hawke stand this man? "_You think I'm an ignorant mage,_" stated Anders. There were no two ways about it, really. "_And you've seen so many others, I guess it must be so… But still I cannot see,_" he reasoned, "_if the ignorant one is me - how can there be so much that you don't know?_" He stared at the resentful elf, before repeating, sadly, "_You don't know?_"

He led his scowling companion along the path. "_You think that every mage must be a madman,_" he sighed, as he walked. "_We all have too much power, you can claim. But I know every elf and plant and human has a spirit, a connection with the Fade._"

Fenris huffed as Anders tapped his fingers lightly against the rocks around them, checking for stray lyrium veins that occasionally snuck up from underground. Anders rolled his eyes. "_You think the only people who are people are the people with no magic, just like you,_" he accused, wondering – not for the first time – if all of Fenris' hate was borne of jealousy. After all, he had watched the magisters' unrivalled power all of his life, and been unable to compete. Maybe that was why he hated it. "_But if you walked the footsteps of a Healer," _he said, gently,_ "you'd learn things you never knew, you never knew._"

As they reached the top of the outcrop they'd been climbing, Anders looked out across the panorama before turning back to Fenris. "_Have you ever heard the thrumming of the elements?_" he asked, dramatically, throwing his arms wide. "_Or felt the magic pulsing in your veins?_" Fenris narrowed his eyes, and shook his head. "_Can you sing with all the voices of the spirits?_" shouted Anders. "_Can you paint with all the colours of the Fade? Can you paint with all the colours of the Fade?_"

Summoning a brief wind spell to envelop the two of them, Anders hurled himself from the outcrop to the pathway below. As Fenris landed – somewhat heavier than his predecessor – Anders clutched his wrist and began running down the path toward the sea, a heady rush of exhilaration filling him. It wasn't very day he got to profess his love for his magic.

"_Come run the hidden corridors of your dreaming,_" he urged, dragging the elf behind him. "_Come taste the bittersweet of lyrium! Come roll in all the wonders magic creates, and for once, forget the bad you've seen done._" He lifted the amulet Hawke had given Fenris in front of his face, raising an eyebrow. He could have sworn that the elf had blushed.

"_The apostates and keepers are my brothers!_" he admitted, proudly. "_The spirits and the dreamers are my friends!_" He thought quickly of Justice, but pushed it away. Justice _was_ his friend. "_And we are all connected to each other; elves and humans, and the Maker's first children._"

Fenris tripped over Anders' pounding feet suddenly, landing heavily on his arm. Instinctively, Anders reached out with magic. He found the source of the pain, and – there. Healed. He laughed at the (slightly incredulous) glare he received in thanks. "_How far could healing spell go?_" he pondered. He then shrugged helplessly. _"If you kill the mage, then you'll never know…_"

He turned to gaze across the sea as the sun began to set. "_And you'll never hear the thrumming of the elements!_" he called back to his wide-eyed companion. "_For whether we wield magic or a blade – we need to sing with all the voices of the spirits! We need to paint with all the colours of the Fade._"

He turned back to Fenris. The elf's expression changed, almost but not quite immediately, from wonderment to a grimace. Anders shook his head sadly. He would never change the elf's mind. "_You can curse magic,_" he sighed, "_and still, it remains a curse until you can paint with all the colours of the Fade…_"

The two returned home in silence. When Hawke asked if they found the silverite vein, they merely mumbled. Anders swore he heard Fenris humming as he stalked off into the darkness of Hightown.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Now I have this mental image of Anders running around the Wounded Coast, his hair billowing behind him and wearing that Pocahontas dress.**_

_**...**_

_***shudder***_

_DivineStorms - Thank you again :)_

_Apollo - Haha, thanks :) That would be great! *toddles off to ponder characters*_

_**Up Next: The Warden makes sure that Denerim welcomes its Prince Alistair with a bang.**_


	28. Prince Ali

_**On a personal level, all of my M!Wardens had a great bromance with Alistair. All of them except Amell. But then again, ol' Amell just wanted to kill things and romanced Morrigan. They can't really be expected to get on.**_

_**This was a no-brainer as far as characters were concerned. I just have to imagine Alistair in that white turban. And a little more of a… dramatic entrance to the Landsmeet. Teehee. Alistair in a turban.**_

**Prince Ali (Aladdin) - Alistair**

It had been a quiet day in Denerim.

Quiet, that is, until the strange thudding noise that had begun echoing at around midday.

As the crowd gathered around the city gates, wondering out loud what the disturbance was, the chanting began. It was quiet at first, but increased in volume until one of the townsfolk realised – "It's an army! They're getting closer!"

"_Make way for Prince Ali!_" chanted the thundering voices. "_Say hey! It's Prince Ali!_"

The gates suddenly burst open – people scattered – shrieks echoed through the market – and then, an armoured man dashed through, smiling broadly. Was that a Grey Warden? went the hushed whisper around the crowd. Yes – it was. He surveyed them for a moment, before making his way through the crowd. "_Hey! Clear the way in the old Bazaar,_" he commanded, shooing people away. "_Hey you! Let us through! It's the one true heir! Oh come, be the first on your block to meet his eye!_"

The people shared looks of incredulity. What did he mean, the 'one true heir'? "_Make way! Here he comes!_" bellowed the man, smiling excitedly. "_Ring bells! Bang the drums! Are you gonna love this guy!_"

And with that, the entire entourage burst through the gates. Above them all, riding on an ornate chair carried by four burly dwarves, sat –

"_Prince Ali! Fabulous he! Alistair Theirin!_" announced the Warden, proudly. "_Genuflect, show some respect, down on one knee!_" he ordered, pushing a few men onto their knees, grinning all the while. He turned to a group of young women, who were watching the seated man with some interest. "_Now, try to restrain your feelings," he advised, leaning over their shoulders. "Brush up your Sunday greeting! Then come and meet his spectacular coterie!_"

"_Prince Ali! Mighty is he! Alistair Theirin! Strong as ten regular men, definitely,_" he swooned, mimicking flexing his (not unimpressive) biceps. "_He faced the galloping hordes,_" he said, nodding, to a group of elderly cynics. "_A hundred darkspawn with swords!_" he informed a group of open-mouthed children.

"_Who sent those goons to their lords?_" echoed the entourage. "_Why, Prince Ali!_"

"_He's got seventy-five pure Mabari_," chorused the men leading Redcliffe's dogs.

"_Silverite swords, he's got fifty-four!_" warbled the ones carrying weapons.

"_When it comes to exotic Qunari,_" quipped the Warden, pointing to the large, bronze skinned creature at the side of the chair. "_Has he got a sten? I'm saying, men," he confessed, "he's a world-class tank warrior!_"

"_Prince Ali! Handsome is he, Alistair Theirin!_" boomed the Warden, clapping the prince on the shoulder.

"_There's no question this Ali's alluring,_" gushed a group of women, flirtatiously. "_Never ordinary, never boring!_"

"_That physique! How can I speak? Weak at the knee!_"

"_Everything about the man just plain impresses!_"

"_Well, get on out in that square!_"

"_He's a winner, he's a whiz, a wonder! He's about to pull my heart asunder!_"

"_Adjust your vein and prepare to gawk and grovel and stare at Prince Ali!_"

"_And I absolutely love the way he dresses!_"

Running back through the crowd, shooing them out of the way, the Warden cleared the path to the Arl of Denerim's residence.

"_He's got ninety-five Dalish elf archers,_" chanted the tattooed young elves marching behind the entourage.

"_He's got the Dalish,_" chattered the scattered Alienage elves, excitedly, "_let's see the Dalish!_"

"_And to hire us we ask him no fee!_"

"_He's generous,_" babbled the townsfolk as Alistair threw gold coins among them haphazardly. "_So generous!_"

"_He's got slaves, he's got servants and flunkies,_" chorused the simply dressed folk among the entourage, including the two cheery dwarves in the large wooden cart.

"_Proud to work for him!_" shouted the two dwarves above the racket.

"_They bow to his whim, love serving him,_" emphasised the servants, cheering, "_we're just lousy with loyalty to Ali! Prince Ali!_"

"_Prince Ali! Amorous he! Alistair Theirin,_" thundered the entire entourage as they burst into the grounds of the Residence.

"_Heard that Loghain was getting a little cocky,_" quipped the Warden, leaning on a shell-shocked guard. He turned back to the following crowd. "_And that, good people, is why," he explained, "he got suited up and dropped by._"

"_With sixty cart horses, dwarves galore,_" chorused the entourage, dancing madly around the chair carrying the – now blushing furiously – prince. "_With his bears and elves, a brass band and more! With his forty mages, his cooks, his bakers, his birds that warble on key –_"

The Warden turned and grinned as the doors to the Residence opened wide to reveal Loghain and Arl Howe, just in time to hear the entire population of Denerim adore the one true king.

"_Make way for Prince Ali!_"

The Warden wished he could have painted a picture of Howe and Loghain's faces.

-0-0-0-0-

_**I've decided – The Warden is Thedas' best PR Manager ever.**_

_Prime24601 - Ahhh, now there's an idea I hadn't thought of. That could be made very fun. :D thanks again, glad you're enjoying the ride! :D_

_Sakura - I think it was, you're right. That's an interesting idea, and I shall look into it with due haste. :)_

_DivineStorms - It's just... there. That image. Burning into your brain. *AndersinadressAndersinadress Andersinadress* x_

_Apollo - Haha, they're all the random thoughts that occur to me as I write XD Thank you very much! Glad I can brighten the moment :) xxx_

_**Next Up: Nathaniel has wondered all his life where he will find his hero's welcome.**_


	29. Go The Distance

_**Sorry I've not updated for a while, I've been really busy. The series might be updated every two-three days for a few weeks, just while I get work and everything sorted :) thanks for the patience, hehe :)**_

_**I was hesitant to even touch this. It's one of my favourite songs in the world, especially the Michael Bolton version. For that reason, I chose to do the film version instead of the longer, 'pop' version, and added in the reprise. I saw this as being very Nathaniel, trying to prove himself. Poor kid **__**was**__** shipped off to the Marches by his dad.**_

**Go The Distance (Hercules) – Nathaniel Howe**

Nathaniel sat at his window. He liked sitting by there. He could see Amaranthine – all of it, not just the parts Father let him visit. He could see beyond that, too. He could see the port and the sea, and, just about, Brandel's Reach. The dark haired child suppressed a wistful sigh as he thought of all the adventures he could have if Father would just let him try.

"When you're older," he would say, impatiently, "you can go wherever you want!"

But that wasn't the point. He wanted it _now_. To see new places, to visit foreign lands. Nathaniel gazed longingly at the moonlight rippling on the waves. "_I have often dreamed of a far off place,_" he sighed. "_Where a hero's welcome will be waiting for me._" He closed his eyes, smiling as he imagined the crowds of people who welcome him back once he was a famous hero. "_Where the crowds will cheer when they see my face… And a voice keeps saying – 'This is where I'm meant to be!_'"

He stood up on the sill, peering out of the cracked open window and feeling the cool, salty breeze on his face. "_I will find my way,_" he promised, quietly. _"I can go the distance. I'll be there someday… Somehow I'll be strong._" He leaned on the panes, pushing his head further out of the window and looking up into the stars. He liked clear nights. He liked to count the constellations he had learned from Father. He liked it especially on the special occasions when Father joined in. "_I know every mile,_" he whispered, "_will be worth my while… I would go most anywhere to feel like I belong._"

Eight years later, and Nathaniel Howe was no longer a child. He was a young man, and he was off to be a squire in the Marches. Finally. New places. Foreign lands. New people, who would love him and admire him. He smiled, the salt spray from the sea whipping up along the boat's prow, as he stood proudly at the helm.

"_I am on my way!_" he declared, to no one in particular. "_I can go the distance! I don't care how far – somehow I'll be strong._"

He turned, looking back for a final time at the figures on the docks. Delilah was no more than a tiny matchstick figure, dancing as she waved. Father had been busy with matters of state. He was a busy man, Nathaniel reminded himself, crossly, as a sense of loss threatened to creep up on him. _As you will be_, he thought. Turning back to the open sea before him, he smiled to himself. "_I know every mile will be worth my while,_" he said, quietly. "_I would go most anywhere, to feel like I belong._"

Another eight years, and Nathaniel was gazing into a mirror in his childhood bedroom. He had never imagined himself back here. He smiled wryly as he remembered looking into the same mirror – there were more lines now, and the face had matured, and the hair had grown, but Nathaniel Howe was still the same star-struck boy he had always been. Still searching for his purpose.

He had thought he had found it in the Marches. But all he had found there was bitterness. He had returned, determinedly thinking his purpose was to avenge his father – but now he knew the truth. The Warden had told the truth. Father – no. _Rendon Howe_ was a murderer and a traitor. And he was better off dead. He had never cared for his sons. It had just taken his eldest a long time to realise.

Nathaniel's reflection grinned back at him. _You're here_, it seemed to say. _You're home._

Something he hadn't felt in a long time – something large and bubbling and exciting and _so happy_ – coursed through him. Throwing himself to the window, the same window he had dreamed at all those years ago, he unlocked the latches and inhaled his own exhilaration. "_I will beat the odds!_" he cried, almost laughing in elation. _"I can go the distance!_"

He picked his bow from the corner of the room, swinging it proudly onto his back. "_I will face darkspawn! Fearless, proud and strong!_"

Threading arrows into his quiver, he swore, "_I will right the wrongs! I can go the distance!_"

He stopped at the door to look back at the room of his childhood. All of his dreams, his confusions – they were here. He was meant to be a Grey Warden. His smile could have split his face. "_Till I find my hero's welcome,_" he promised, passionately, "_right where I belong!_"

This was where he belonged. With the Wardens.

Yes. He was home.

-0-0-0-0-

_**I quite like this. I love the song, though, and I love Nathaniel. I'm biased.**_

_Sakura - I know, he'd be mortified xD_

_Prime24601 - I sure can do, they sound like good ideas to me :)_

_DarkenedFantasy - (love your penname, by the way) That's great to hear, thank you very much :D That's actually being uploaded next, but I love the idea of Sebastian playing a more active role. That'll be most definitely used :D_

_**Up Next: Bethany prays to the Maker on behalf of her kind.**_


	30. God Help The Outcasts

_**Oh God, BETHANY HAWKE. She is so sweet, she gives me toothache. I absolutely ADORE this song, and who else could I give it to but everyone's favourite little sister?**_

_**AN; I **__**know**__** 'Maker' doesn't seem to fit as well as 'God'. It does if you say it a certain way. I couldn't think of any other way to put it :(**_

**God Help The Outcasts (Hunchback of Notre Dame) – Bethany Hawke**

It was always a risk coming to the Chantry in the daytime. There were so many Templars. They made her shiver just by looking at her. What is they knew?

Not that Bethany hadn't had her fair share of practice at avoiding Templars. She was lucky. She had always had her siblings to protect her. Not many others like her were so fortunate.

She wondered what life might have been like if she had grown up in the Tower. Her brother's friend, Anders, had told her a little of what it had been like. She shuddered at some of the stories he had told her. Yes – she was glad she was free, even if it might have been easier to give herself to the Templars.

Stopping at the feet of Andraste, Bethany looked up into the face of the Maker's Bride. She looked rather formidable in her armour, brandishing her flaming sword like a beacon. But there was something in her stone face – yes, Bethany thought, meditatively. Something kind, but sad.

Staying carefully in the shadows, Bethany looked up through her lashes at the statue. She didn't want to draw attention to herself. "_I don't know if you can hear me,_" she whispered, clasping her hands in front of her. "_Or if you're even there… I don't know if you would listen to a mage's prayer._" The stone eyes gazed at her in answer. "_Yes, I know I'm just an outcast,_" continued Bethany, desperately. "_I shouldn't speak to you. But still I see your face and wonder… Were you once an outcast too?_"

She peeped out from the shadows, pacing the hall. "_Maker, help the outcasts,_" she prayed, quietly. "_Hungry from birth. Show them the mercy they don't find on earth._" She looked across the people praying at the altar, and the Templars milling about. Why would the Maker gift them with magic, then send Templars to hunt them for Him? She just didn't know. "_Maker, help the outcasts,_" she begged, "_we look to you still. Maker, help the outcasts, or nobody will._"

Stepping closer to the main hall, Bethany heard the prayers and pleas being offered around her.

"_I ask for wealth!_" asked a small, balding man in fine clothes.

"_I ask for fame!_" declared a young woman with a thick gold necklace.

"_I ask for glory to shine on my name!_" came a cry from another.

"_I ask for love,_" confessed a greying woman, holding out her arms as she gazed at the statue of the Prophetess, "_I can possess!_"

A rousing chorus echoed around the Chantry as their voices came together in sermon. "_I ask for Andraste, His bride, to bless me!_"

Bethany turned away, tears filling her eyes. "_I ask for nothing!_" she cried, tears thickening her voice. "_I can get by. But I know so many less lucky than I_."

She raised her hands in plea to the altar. "_Please help my people!_" she begged, tears streaming down her face. "_Who are downtrodden… I thought we all were the Maker's children._"

She looked up to the golden sunlight streaming in through the stained glass windows above her. The rays fell on her, bathing her in gold, and she closed her eyes.

"_Maker, help the outcasts,_" she whispered. "_The Maker's children._"

-0-0-0-0-

_**Hope I did that justice. Lol.**_

_**AN: I've recently been scrolling through the Dragon Age communities here of , and I've found one of my favourites. It's called **_**'Shiny Happy People**_**', and, like this, concentrates on the light-hearted side of DA. If anyone is looking for more parodies, I'd direct you there. :D**_

_**Up Next: Alistair knows well how to accurately describe his adoptive mother.**_


	31. Cruella De Vil

_**The lyrics are again, rather changed in order to make the rhyming pattern make sense.**_

_**Features a fem!Warden :)**_

**Cruella De Vil (101 Dalmatians) – Arlessa Isolde**

The Warden raised her eyebrows at Alistair. "She can't be that bad," she chuckled, seeing her fellow Warden's horrified expression. They were sitting in the window of the Solar, a room that, at Arl Eamon's insistence, had been lent to the Wardens and their companions.

"You don't know her," he muttered, shaking his head. "The woman is a witch! She… spawned!"

"Spawned?"

"From a log."

The Warden rolled her eyes. "Really, Alistair," she sighed, "I hardly think –"

Alistair snorted. "Trust me," he groaned, "that woman is one toadstool too many in a bubbling cauldron of... of crazy." The Warden crossed her arms, her eyebrows raised even higher.

"_Arlessa Isolde, Arlessa Isolde,_" repeated Alistair, acting out an elaborate pantomime of the lady of the castle as he did so. "_If she doesn't scare you, then you must be bold! __To see her is to make your spine go cold – Arlessa, Arlessa…_"

The Warden snorted, pushing at his chest. "_She's like a viper tightening her hold,_" screeched Alistair, reaching out his hands dramatically. "_Look out for __Arlessa Isolde!_"

A bell went off somewhere in the castle, followed by the deafening, yet regular, shriek of –

"TEAGAAAAAAN! I REQUIRE YOUR ASSEESSTAAAANCE!"

Alistair smirked. "See what I mean?" he asked, dryly, and the Warden burst into laughter. The blonde man wrapped the blanket that lay draped over the window around his head like a Rivaini pirate, and waggled his fingers theatrically.

"_At first you think Isolde is __a devil,_" he rasped, his eyes wide in a mock leer, "_but after time has worn __away the shock – you come to __realize you've __seen her kind of eyes__ w__atching you from __underneath a rock!_"

"You're no help, Alistair," giggled the Warden, wiping her eyes and punching his shoulder playfully.

Alistair made no response except to continue, though his grin was almost visible. "_This vampire bat,_" he chuckled, "_this __inhuman beast – she ought to be locked up __and never released!_" He took the blanket off his head and shook his head, feigning nostalgia. "_The world was such a __wholesome place,_" he sighed, "_before __Arlessa, Arlessa Isolde__!_"

The two Wardens sat at the window giggling until the laughter dried up. Then –

"TEAGAAAAAN!"

All it took was a shared look, another smirk, and the two were holding their sides in hysterics.

_**Short, but hopefully sweet. I always liked Roger in 101 Dalmatians, though I can't remember the actual storyline :S**_

_Sakura - I like your thinking. I'll see what I can muddle together ;D_

_**Up Next: The boys dwell on what they want as they march toward the horde.**_


	32. A Girl Worth Fighting For

_**I'm sorry it's been a while, guys! I've been decorating and my laptop has been buried under mounds of rubbish :0 BUT, I'm back now! :D**_

_**Also... reviews! (well, 101 :L) Thank you for all the support and ideas! You're the best, guys :D**_

_**Dedicated to Sakura, for yet another great idea and all the gratefully received reviews :D**_

**A Girl Worth Fighting For Pt. 1 (Mulan) – The Male Companions of Origins**

The group had been somewhat dismayed after leaving Redcliffe. It had been nice, just for a while, to live in a real house – a castle, no less – rather than tents, and to have small luxuries like hot water and home-cooked meals. Now they were back on the road – back to fighting hurlocks, and getting covered in mud and blood that never washed off, and eating Alistair's terrible rabbit stew in freezing cold wind.

Leliana had been especially mournful. Even Morrigan, who swore blind that she was glad to be back in her natural habitat and away from such ridiculous human frivolities such as _spices_, had looked longingly at the last piece of meat they had taken from the castle before taking a melancholy bite.

Right now, they were picking their way across a snow covered track dotted with frozen puddles – or, as Alistair referred to them, invisible death traps.

"_For a long time we've been marching to fight the horde,_" they sighed, eyes downcast and glum.

"_In our tiny group, we feel a bit outnumbered,_" admitted Oghren, heavily. Little droplets of ice were forming on the ends of his beard, and his nose was the same colour as his hair.

"_Like the pounding beat,_" they groaned, "_our aching feet aren't easy to ignore –_"

"_Hey!_" shouted Zevran, ever the optimist, suddenly. He was grinning. "_Think of instead, a girl worth fighting for!_"

Sten raised his eyebrows, and made a curious, if cynical, grunt.

Zevran grinned, motioning to throw an arm over the kossith's shoulder, but seeming to better of it. "_That's what I said!_" he grinned. "_A girl worth fighting for!_"

He turned away, looking into the distance. "_I want her paler than the moon!_" he sighed, "_with eyes that shine like stars!_"

"_My girl will marvel at my strength,_" nodded Oghren, grinning lecherously. "_Adore my battle scars!_"

Alistair smiled goofily. "_I couldn't care less what she'll wear, or what she looks like,_" he admitted, dreamily. "_It all depends on what she cooks like!_"He licked his lips. "_Beef, pork, chicken, mmm…_"

They continued walking, the women sharing exasperated glances.

"Is this really the time to indulge in such fantasies…?" grumbled Morrigan. She was pointedly ignored by the male members of the group.

Oghren nudged Alistair in the rip. "_Bet the local girls thought you were quite the charmer,_" he said, seriously, then burst into chuckling at Alistair's expression.

"_And I know the ladies love a man in armour,_" commented Zevran, flexing a wiry, rather than muscular, arm and grinning lasciviously.

"_You can guess what we have missed the most since we went off to war!_" they chorused, sharing knowing looks.

"_What do we want?_" asked the elf, turning to his fellow men.

"_A girl worth fighting for!_" they replied, gleefully.

"_My girl will think I have no faults!_" boomed Oghren, puffing out his chest.

"_That I'm a major find,_" sighed Alistair, a thoughtful smile playing on his lips.

The three then looked to Sten, who raised an eyebrow.

"_What of a girl who knows her place,_" he proposed, "_in the Qun and in her life?_"

Dwarf, elf and human shared a despairing glance. "_Nah!_" they snorted, turning away from the stony faced warrior.

Zevran struck a pose, leaning on Alistair's shoulder. "_My manly ways and turn of phrase are sure to thrill her,_" he boasted to his support, examining his fingernails nonchalantly.

Oghren snorted. "_He thinks he's such a lady killer,_" he muttered in an aside to Alistair.

"_Bet you've a girl back home who's unlike any other,_" giggled Leliana, nudging Sten timidly.

"_Yeah, the only girl who'd love him is his mother,_" grunted Oghren, hoping to the Stone that the giant wouldn't hear him.

"_But when we come home in victory,_" the men agreed, "_they'll line up at the door!_"

"_What do we want?_" asked Zevran, vigorously.

"_A girl worth fighting for!_"

"_Wish that I had –_"

"_A girl worth fighting for!_" they bellowed, grinning wildly with arms around each other's shoulders. Oghren had his arm around Alistair's hip, grimacing.

They looked at each other, grinning as they whistled in harmony.

"_A girl worth fighting –_"

Then the Warden held his hand up, and the group fell quiet.

The horde had arrived before them.

-0-0-0-0-

_**And then the Fire Nation attacked.**_

_**Part 2 – i.e. the redux from Mulan II – is coming soon! :D**_

_Apollo - You know what, I've had an idea using that very song..._

_Ously Salvation - That's because the 100th review makes me so happy. Thank you :D_

_Sakura - OH MY WORD, THAT IDEA. Yes. All the wins._

_**Up Next: Isabela sums up her favourite assassin for the benefit of her friends.**_


	33. He's A Tramp

_**This song was made for our favourite Antivan. **_

_**Thank the Maker for Peggy Lee. Surprisingly, however, I never liked this film, only the music. The cats creeped me out.**_

**He's A Tramp (Lady and the Tramp) – Zevran**

As they walked along the dirt path to the set meeting place, Hawke asked – merely out of curiosity – just how she knew the Antivan elf whose backside they were saving from the Crows.

The pirate had laughed. "Oh, you know…" she waggled her eyebrows, grinning. "We just _know _each other."

Hawke blushed. She should have guessed, really. Isabela cocked her head, an almost wistful smile playing on her lips. "What an elf," she sighed.

Varric's eyebrows raised. "Hey," he grinned, "tell us about it, Rivaini."

"_What an elf,_" she giggled in reply, strutting forward. Hawke shook her head. Oh, Maker, here we go.

"_He's a tramp,_" began Isabela, grinning. "_But they love him. Breaks a new heart every day._" She cocked her head to the side, leaning a hand on her hip. "_He's a tramp, they adore him! And I only hope he'll stay that way._"

The pirate spun around on her heel, facing the group. "_He's a tramp,_" she stated, shamelessly. "_He's a scoundrel. He's a rounder, he's a cad!_" She sighed, leaning back on a rocky outcrop of cliff. "_He's a tramp, but I love him,_" she admitted, smiling wistfully before chuckling. "_Yes, even I have got it pretty bad._"

Hawke shared a look with Varric, and the dwarf smirked, shaking his head in disbelief. This elf had to be something special to have Isabela wrapped up like this.

"_You can never tell when he'll show up,_" boasted Isabela, as if discussing the elf's sailing prowess. "_He'll give you plenty of trouble! I guess he's just a no count pup –_" she shrugged, and laughed, confessing, "_But I wish that he were double!_"

She moved ahead again, stepping backwards to keep her eyes on the group. Her hips were swaying dramatically. "_He's a tramp, he's a rover!_" she giggled, gleefully. "_And there's nothing more to say!_" She skipped forward to Hawke, throwing an arm over both hers and Merrill's shoulder. "_If he's a tramp,_" she winked, her voice filled with flirtatious pride, "_he's a good one – and I wish that I could travel his way!_"

She swayed her body as she guided the group along a rock strewn corner. "_I wish that I could travel his way,_" she repeated, her voice satirically husky. "_I wish that I could travel his way!_"

Yes, Isabela was proud to know Zevran. Not that she'd ever let him know that. He was cocky enough as it was.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Another very short but fun piece, just to fill some gaps :)**_

_**Zevran and Isabela are probably my two favourite companions at the moment. Well, Zevran has been since day 1. That cheeky little Spaniard.**_

_**Up Next: Dagna dreams of a life above Orzammar.**_


	34. Part Of Your World

_**AN - Hey guys, I'm SO sorry about the massive gap, but this fic may be on hiatus for a little while! Let me explain. Everything that can go wrong in my house right now is going wrong: as well as having no kitchen, no heating, no hot water and no living space, I've also got no internet. So, there's no way for me to upload ficlets! Argh! I'm uploading from a friend's house right now, so as soon as my internet is back up and running (which I hope will be around early March), TDD will be regularly updated again. Thanks for all your patience! Love you all :D ~Witchcraft**_

* * *

_**I also considered a Mage Warden for this, but I'm trying to involve more NPCs at the moment. So, for those of you who have forgotten, Dagna is the adorable little dwarf girl you meet in Orzammar who wants to study with the mages. I put in a good word for her in the Tower when I played. She's too cute. Aldenon, however, is my own creation. He's like Orzammar's equivalent of Flounder.**_

**Part Of Your World (The Little Mermaid) – Dagna**

As the door slammed behind her father, Dagna sighed, and threw the tome onto her bed beside her. Her pet nug, Aldenon, looked sadly at her, and if a nug could comfort someone, he would have. Instead, he nuzzled her thigh affectionately. Dagna stroked his back, looking forlornly at the books and gadgets lining her bedroom walls.

She supposed her father would never understand her need to see the world above, to study with those amazing people they called mages. He wanted her to marry and continue his family trade, but where was the adventure in raising a family? Of blacksmiths, nonetheless?

"I just don't see things the way he does," she sighed aloud, twisting a carved runestone in her hands. "I don't see how a world that make such wonderful things… could be _bad_."

Aldenon snuffled resignedly. Dagna smiled, motioning to her shelves. "_Look at this stuff!_" she shrugged. "_Isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think my collection's complete? Wouldn't you think I'm the girl – the girl who has everything…?_" Aldenon trailed at her heels as she paced the floor. "_Look at this trove, treasures untold! How many wonders can one cavern hold?_" she wondered, enthralled, before stopping short. "_Looking around here, you'd think – 'Sure. She's got everything._'"

She moved along the shelves, lifting trinkets and showing them to an eager Aldenon. "_I've got gadgets and gizmos aplenty!_" she boasted. "_I've got whosits and whatsits galore! You want thingamabobs? I've got twenty!_" She placed the old amulet back on the table, and sighed. "_But who cares?_" she asked, shrugging. "_No big deal…I want more…!_"

She let out a heavy sigh, leaning on her windowsill and looking out over Orzammar. Everything was so red. "_I wanna be where the mages are,_" she whispered. "_I wanna see, wanna see 'em casting! Walking around with those – what do you call 'em?_" she asked Aldenon, who cocked his head. "_Oh – staves,_" she giggled, tickling the nug's toes.

"_Being a dwarf, you don't get too far,_" she lamented, wiggling her short, stubby fingers in exasperation. "_Magic's required for dreaming, learning! Strolling along through the – what's the word again?_" She lifted Aldenon into her arms, smiling. "_Fade!_"

She looked upward through her window, imagining the strange lyrium coloured sky she'd heard about. "_Up where they walk,_" she cried, "_up where they run! Up where they stay all day in the sun! Wandering free – wish I could be part of that world!_"

She threw herself onto her bed, squeezing her shoulders in excitement. "_What would I give if I could live out of these caverns?_" she wondered, gazing at the heavy stone ceiling above her. "_What would I pay to spend a day warm on the land?_" She leaned on her arm, turning to see Aldenon. "_Betcha on land, they understand,_" she sighed, thinking of her stuffy father. "_Bet they don't reprimand their daughters! Bright young mages –_" She motioned dully to her bookshelves. "_Sick of pages! Ready to stand…!_"

"_And ready to know what the magi know!_" she cried, leaping to her feet with new determination. "_Ask them my questions and get some answers! What's a fire rod and why does it – what's the word?_" She grinned at Aldenon, "_Burn?_"

She clasped her hands before her face in desperation. "_When's it my turn?_" she begged to no one in particular. "_Wouldn't I love, love to explore that world up above…?_"

She looked out of the window again, watching the traders and blacksmiths and nug herders and the like bustle around and imagining them to be taller, slimmer, and robe-clad. "_Out of the city,_" she breathed, resting her elbows on the sill. "_Wish I could be part of that world…_"

She'd have her chance. She was sure of it.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Rebel dwarves are too cute. Imagine if Dagna and Sandal ever met? It would be so sweet you could dip them in your tea.**_

_**Also - thank you for all the awesome reviews and suggestions! Keep them coming, and I'll get back to you ASAP with them :D**_

_**Up Next: Hawke wonders if the sun will ever shine again in her life.**_


	35. Will The Sun Ever Shine Again?

_**GUESS WHO'S HOME?**_

_**Hello, guys. Glad to be back. D'ya miss me? I missed you. Lots. I missed the internet. I feel like that bit in The Notebook when the guy and the girl meet again. God, that was sappy. Anyway. I have had the internet back for some time, truthfully, but I've had loads of work, and then I went on holiday, and family drama… Argh. Thanks, guys! :) ~Witchcraft**_

**Will The Sun Ever Shine Again? (Home On The Range) – Hawke**

Hawke gazed into the fire in the hearth. The marble was dull and scuffed, and the flames didn't flicker like they used to. Something else that had changed.

The feeling of the house had changed since Leandra's presence left it. Maybe it would fairer to say that the feeling had abandoned it. There was nothing in the Hawke Residence anymore – no laughter as mother and daughter joked, no tuneful humming as Leandra baked, no quiet moments of reading by the fire. Only the rain hammering on the windows, the low rumbles of thunder above the dark, dank clouds.

"_Rain is falling down like the heavens are hurting,_" murmured Hawke. "_Seems like it's been dark since Andraste knows when. How can you go on, never knowing for certain – will the sun ever shine again?_" She looked up to the large portrait of her mother, smiling in her youth, as the reflection of rain ran down her painted cheeks like tears.

"_Feels like it's been years since it started to thunder,_" she continued, shaking her head as she turned to the window. "_Clouds are camping out in the valley and glen._" She watched the wind rattle the panes with blank eyes. "_How do you go on, when you can't help but wonder – will the sun ever shine again?_"

Her mouth screwed into a grimace as she pushed herself from the windowsill. What was the point? She'd failed Carver, she'd failed Bethany, and now she'd failed her mother. And by doing that, she'd failed Father. She'd failed.

"_What if the rain keeps falling?_" she cried, almost accusingly, at the grey skies above her as she wrenched open the windows. "_What if the sky stays grey? What if the winds keep squalling?_" She closed her eyes, feeling the salty rain mix with her own tears. "_And never go away?_" she whispered, feeling all anger leaving her in a breath.

Looking out across Kirkwall, she saw the flickering lights of the Chantry. The Chantry – Andraste, the Maker. Was she with them now? Was Carver? Father? Hawke could only hope. She blinked away raindrops from her lashes. "_Maybe soon the storm will be tired of blowing,_" she prayed, her eyes fixed on the Chantry's roof. "_Maybe soon it all will be over, amen._" As long as the Chantry stood, things would be safe. Stable. Elthina had come to her at the funeral, and stood by her, wordless yet vigilant. As long as the Grand Cleric was in Kirkwall… Yes. Things would get better. But now, Leandra was gone, and Hawke couldn't care for Kirkwall.

"_How do you go on, if there's no way of knowing – will the sun ever shine?_" she asked, turning her gaze upward, speaking to the Maker Himself. She laughed once, heartlessly, humourlessly. "_Wish I could say!_" She threw up her hands. "_Send me a sign, one little ray! Maker, if you're listening, how long until then?_"

Nothing. No booming voice rattled from the heavens, nor any powerful urge in her mind. Hawke shook her head. Of course. Why would the Maker listen to her? She was just Hawke. Just the woman who had let her family die. Turning away, she rested her head in her hands, despairingly.

"_Will the sun ever shine again?_"

**You know, I actually ****did**** like Grand Cleric Elthina. She was like the only person in Kirkwall who wasn't batshit crazy. And I also thought they could have done SO much more with this entire segment of the game. Come on Bioware, your fans are requiring feels….**

**Sorry. Depressing stuff to come back with. And short. I'll do better next time, I promise.**

**If I do update sporadically at any point, my apologies. Work, exams, and this new TV show I've become obsessed with called Supernatural are kind of destroying my life right now.**

**Love you all, and again – thank you so much for all the patience! **

**Up Next: Flemeth makes a point to her daughter about who knows best.**


	36. Mother Knows Best

_**Thanks for all the welcome back reviews, guys - good to hear from you all! :)**_

**Mother Knows Best (Tangled) – Flemeth & Morrigan**

Morrigan gulped as her mother stared at her. She wasn't sure what had overcome her. A moment of rebelliousness? A quick flame of wilful passion? Maybe she was just searching for a painful death.

"You want to go outside?" repeated Flemeth, who was watching her teenage daughter with interest. Maybe this would be her chance to twist the girl's mind into staying with her. She did have her plans, after all. She gasped in put-on horror. "Why, Morrigan…!"

She shook her head. "_Look at you, fragile as a flower_," she sighed."_Still a little sapling, just a sprout. You know why we stay here in this forest._"

Morrigan shrugged. "I know," she muttered, "but –"

Flemeth nodded eagerly. "That's right," she said. "To keep you safe and sound, dear." She sighed once more, wrinkled hands on her hips. She was getting old. And Morrigan – beautiful, naïve Morrigan – was just coming into her own bewitching youth. "_Guess I always knew this day was coming_," she murmured, shaking her head. "_Knew that soon you'd want to leave the nest. Soon – but not yet._"

Morrigan's face fell. "But –" she protested, fruitlessly.

The witch shushed her tenderly. "Trust me, pet," she soothed. "Mother knows best."

Morrigan was staring, yellow eyes narrowed. "_Mother knows best,_" stated Flemeth, taking hold of the girl's shoulders."_Listen to your mother – it's a scary world out there!_" She swerved her daughter toward the window."_Mother knows best,_" she repeated. "_One way or another, something will go wrong, I swear!_"

Morrigan looked doubtful, and her mother threw her arms wide in fake terror. "_Ruffians, thugs, poison ivy, quicksand!_" she listed, her face horrified. "_Cannibals and snakes – the plague!_"

"No!" cried Morrigan, her mouth already agape.

"Yes!" responded her mother, fervently.

"But –"

"_Also large bugs,_" elaborated Flemeth, feeling some amusement in her daughter's terrified expression."_Men with pointy teeth! And –_" she mimed swooning in fear. "_Stop, no more, you'll just upset me!_" She cackled as Morrigan gazed, wide-eyed at her mother.

Swooping down to clasp her to her chest, Flemeth let her wizened cheek brush against her daughter's soft raven hair. "_Mother's right here, Mother will protect you_," she promised, her eyes glinting with amusement."_Darling, here's what I suggest – skip the drama, stay with mama! Mama knows best!_"

Morrigan was nodding fervently by now, all thoughts of 'travelling' and 'humans' out of her mind. Flemeth was biting back the laughter with each lie she told.

"_Mother knows best, take it from your mumsie,_" she said, patronisingly, patting Morrigan on the head and smoothing her hair. "_On your own, you wouldn't survive._" She motioned to the Chasind rags and scraps of leather her daughter had recently taken to wearing."_Sloppy, underdressed,_" she listed, seeming dismayed."_Immature, clumsy – please, they'll eat you up alive! Gullible, naïve – plus, I believe, getting kinda chubby_," she remarked, prodding the girl's skinny stomach with a bony finger, making her squirm and frown. Putting on an over emphasized pout, Flemeth gathered the girl in her arms."_I'm just saying 'cause I love you_," she eased,giggling inwardly."_Mother understands, Mother's here to help you! All I have is one request_…"

Pushing her daughter – who looked faintly traumatised after so much open affection – to arm's length, she looked her in the eye. "Morrigan?"

The girl looked up through thick dark eyelashes. "Yes?" she murmured, half hurt, half resigned.

"Don't ever ask to leave this forest again."

And with that, the Witch of the Wilds spun on her heel and left Morrigan standing by the window of the small hut, alone.

"Yes, Mother," came the dull response, to no one in particular.

When the raven with the amber eyes flutter past the window later that day, Flemeth couldn't help but laugh. She may be raising the girl for her own purposes, but she sometimes wondered if she wasn't already part of her.

_**Not sure if I could have done more with this or not, but it's nice to be writing again! **_

_**Up Next: The boys continue searching for what they want after the Blight ends.**_


	37. Girl Worth Fighting For Redux

_**Hi guys - I've run out of my back-up store of ficlets, so these are freshly written, hence they're a bit slow. I have to find time to write... Exams, leave me be for a few weeks so I may write!**_

_**This is a follow up to Ficlet 32, 'A Girl Worth Fighting For'. It's based just after the events of Origins, in a storyline where Alistair stays a Warden and Anora becomes queen.**_

**A Girl Worth Fighting For Redux (Mulan II) – Zevran, Oghren & Alistair**

As the door to The Pearl slammed shut behind them, the three men picked themselves gingerly from the floor. They made a funny group – a tall, powerful, blond human; a burly, scarlet bearded dwarf; and a lithe, tanned elf who seemed cockier than most elves anyone in Denerim had ever seen.

Right now, however, the elf was scowling. Scowling was a rare occurrence these days, since the Blight had been conquered a few weeks ago, and Queen Anora reinstated on the throne of Ferelden.

Zevran shook his head, glowering. "_Well, I don't need her to be all smug and snooty!_" he grumbled, brushing dust from his fine leather jacket.

"_I got a plaque right here that says I kicked 'Spawn booty!_" boomed Oghren, brandishing the medal he had been awarded by the queen like a talisman toward the door to the brothel.

Alistair sighed, looking at his feet. "_We got everything we dreamed we'd find when we came back from war,_" he muttered, almost sadly, reflecting momentarily on the chance he may have lost. He pushed it from his mind. No. He was better as a Warden.

"_Yeah,_" agreed his companions. "_Everything but a girl worth fighting for!_"

As the three sighed in unison, the first rustlings of skirt fabric could be heard from the other side of the road. "_Hey!_" hissed Oghren, eagerly. "_Suck in your gut! There's a girl worth fighting for!_"

"_And I think she wants us to come over,_" whispered Zevran, puffing out his chest.

The merchant girl was very pretty. And she was holding up her wares enticingly as the three men strutted over.

"_My girl will laugh at all my jokes,_" Zevran mused as they made their way across. "_But tell it to me straight!_"

"_She'll rub my head when I get sick,_" sighed Oghren, thinking longingly of Braska, and Felsi. But they were in the past, now. And it obviously hadn't been _his_ head Braska had been rubbing all those years she'd been missing.

"_And let me pick off of her plate,_" smiled Alistair, dreamily, whose attention had wandered off to the woman selling bread across the market. Looking back at the elf, he rolled his eyes. "_If Zev can find a girl who likes his twirling knife trick_," he quipped, wryly, as the elf spun a knife deftly between his fingers before the girl. Well, almost deftly – it nicked the table on its way round and stuck fast in the otherwise perfect wood.

"_He'd really better just propose quick!_" chortled the dwarf as the girl's eyes widened and her mouth set.

A few moments later, the three were traipsing into the tavern, Zevran pressing a hand to his throbbing jaw were the merchant girl had socked him for vandalising her stall. " Well, I guess you'd say based on today," he groaned, "I'm cranky!"

"I'll just spend my life with you two," muttered Alistair, gazing dejectedly into his ale. He could have been a king. Instead he was a Grey Warden with the charisma and attraction of a goat.

"Pass the hanky!" grumbled Oghren, slurping his beer.

Zevran shrugged. "And there's no one there to steal my chair," he sighed.

"And twirl around the floor!" bellowed Oghren, flailing an arm and knocking a burly young man off his feet.

"Wish that I had a girl worth fighting for!" agreed the three men as the young man rose to his feet with a roar and dived on the nearest bystander. It wasn't long before a full brawl was in motion, with dwarf, human and elf all diving into the fray.

"I would be true," shouted Zevran as he sunk his fist into someone's gut.

"To a girl worth fighting for!"

"I'd make fondue," came Alistair's chuckle as he easily blocked a drunken fist.

"With a girl worth fighting –"

Oghren's face appeared above the mess, holding a particularly ugly brute by the hair. "I'd even kiss you," he shrugged, before landing a solid punch on the thug's nose.

"For a girl worth fighting…"

Sturdy hands on collars. Doors being pressed into faces. Next thing they knew, Alistair, Oghren and Zevran were flat on their faces outside the tavern, noses pressed into the dirt.

Struggling up, the three shared a glance."… For!" they finished, sighing and slumping against each other.

It was tough to be a Warden. But mostly? It was lonely.

-0-0-0-0-

_**Supernatural quote in the end there. Woop.**_

_**I love writing bromance of these three.**_

_**Up Next: Fenris wonders at the light he has found in his life.**_


	38. Heaven's Light

_**I believe this was requested a while back from hotrod333. I've been going through my request lists, and writing whichever takes my fancy – if you've made a request that you haven't seen yet, you may well see it over the next few weeks :) Also thanks to Sakura for featuring me in her Community! Loves! xx**_

_**As always with my Fenris fics, this is M!Hawke x Fenris. I've decided I prefer it. I write sassy gay Hawke and it pleases me. So, read on.**_

**Heaven's Light (Hunchback Of Notre Dame) – Fenris**

Fenris sighed as he leaned out of his window. The night air in Kirkwall was strikingly chill for a spring evening, the cool breeze pricking the tips of his ears with icy fingers. But to look at him, it almost seemed as if the cold was merely a distraction – the mossy eyes had a far-away look, the thin lips tightly pressed, the nose a little screwed. The elf was thinking, and whatever had caught his thoughts had caught it well.

And that which had done so was Hawke. Hawke, with his damned shoulders, and his soft voice, and his ridiculous red spatter across his nose. A man who genuinely cared for Fenris, but not so much that he would allow him to ramble on in his rages, or not admonish him for his scorn of magic. Fenris often caught himself thinking of Bethany at those times, remembering her innate sweetness, and Hawke's expression when she was taken away. Those were the times his words stopped.

From far below, an intimate giggle interrupted Fenris' thoughts. A young couple – humans, probably nobles, judging by their clothes and bad attempts at inconspicuousness – were crossing Hightown's courtyard, hand in hand, occasionally brushing foreheads or noses or lips. Fenris raised his eyebrows, half-resignedly, half-curiously. Welcome to Hightown, where foppish Orlesian romances are considered instructions on courtship. But still… They looked happy, and that was more than Fenris could consider himself at the moment, squatting alone in a semi-destroyed mansion, getting slowly drunk on fine Tevinter wines and swooning over another man who, he was fairly sure, felt at least a nuance of attraction toward him – at least, if the fumbled kiss on the cheek as they read together earlier that week signified anything. A real man, Fenris decided, would have taken the warrior roughly by the shoulders and kissed him until his lips were swollen, but no. Fenris had frozen, made a strange, strangled squeaking noise from the back of his throat, and forgotten how to breathe as Hawke turned a furious shade of scarlet. Maker, no wonder Isabela mocked them.

The giggling, probably Orlesian, couple vanished around a pillar, and Fenris immediately retreated his gaze. He knew what would happen. So his mind went blank for a moment, and was then promptly filled with Hawke's shoulders again.

"_So many times out there,_" he sighed, leaning on the stone sill, "_I've watched a happy pair of lovers walking in the night._" He took a swig of Aggregio, swilling the crimson liquid thoughtfully around the bottle. He couldn't find the glasses, and even if he could, he doubted he'd use them. Except if Hawke asked – the man seemed to appreciate small luxuries. "_They had a kind of glow around them,_" he continued, his eyes wandering back to the now – mostly – silent couple. "_It almost looked like heaven's light._"

He shrugged, resting his elbows on the stone and frowning, his fingertips straying, as they so often did when he was alone, to the silvery scarring on his chin and throat. They scared people. Venhedis, they scared the other slaves back in Minrathous. Some slaves sought company amongst each other, even if only for a few moments of oblivion, but never had Fenris been approached. Who would touch the Master's pet wolf, with his eerie marks and stark hair and angry eyes? _"I knew I'd never know that warm and loving glow,_" he muttered, his fingers clenching around the wine bottle. "_Thought I might wish with all my might, no face as hideous as my face was ever meant for heaven's light._" He wondered, again, at Hawke's eyes when they spoke. Most people's eyes were fixed on the markings, following the rivers and planes of lyrium burns even as they spoke mechanically; but not Hawke's. Hawke looked at him when they spoke – really _looked_ at him, as if he was not seeing they collared, growling stray dog of a slave most saw, but a person. Fenris.

"_But suddenly an angel has smiled at me,_" he cried, suddenly, his heart leaping in his chest which may or may not have been influenced by half a bottle of Aggregio Pavali. "_And kissed my cheek without a trace of fright!_"

He tried his hardest to believe in the Maker, and a forgiving soul who would take all into His arms and they would be free – but maybe there was more to belief than just praying for the pain to leave, praying for a single memory, or sometimes for nothing at all. Maybe there were sometimes small miracles that showed themselves when you needed them. Maybe there was Hawke. "_I dare to dream that he might even care for me,_" whispered Fenris to the night air, wondering, half-drunkenly, if it heard him. He was answered with a gentle shushing sound, as if the breeze had indeed heard, and understood. Yes. Small miracles. The Chantry rogue said the Maker moves in mysterious ways.

Fenris let a small, hopeful smile slip onto his mouth. "_And as I watch these streets tonight, my cold dark mansion seems so bright…_" He sighed again, his eyes tilting across to get a glimpse of Hawke's rooftop. "_I swear it must be heaven's light._"

The Maker moved in mysterious ways. And maybe He had seen Fenris, and maybe he had given him his miracle.

-0-0-0-0-

_**I would appreciate critiques for this please, I'm not all that confident with writing fluff but I'd like to branch out a little… :)**_

_**Quite wordy, this one, but it's such a short song, and lovestruck Fenris is so cute, I thought it deserved some prose-ness. **__**Hope you enjoyed!**_

_**A.N.1:**__** I have a Tumblr blog now! If any of you guys are on it, reckon you could follow me? I need more people to follow! Username is trickstersandtoast . On that note, my Pen Name is changing to the same thing - anything you see in future will be written buy trickstersandtoast rather than WitchcraftAndTrcickery. **_

_**A.N. 2: **__**This is the list of requests I'm going through. It'd be a massive favour to me if you guys could pick which ones you'd like to see!**_

_**- Belle (Beauty and the Beast)  
- Poor Unfortunate Souls (Little Mermaid)  
- King of New York (Newsies)  
- When You Wish Upon A Star (Pinocchio)  
- Give A Little Whistle (Pinocchio)  
- Once Upon A Dream (Sleeping Beauty)  
- Why Should I Worry (Oliver & Company)  
- World's Greatest Criminal Mind (The Great Mouse Detective)  
- Welcome To The Forty Thieves (Aladdin 2)  
- When We're Human (Princess and the Frog)  
- Under The Sea (Little Mermaid)  
- Are You In Or Out (Aladdin 2)  
- Everybody Wants To Be A Cat (Aristocats)**_

_**Up Next: Alistair learns that there is more to death than dying.**_


	39. He Lives In You

_**Requested by hotrod333 a while back. You go, hotrod333!**_

_**For ease of reading – you know the Swahili bit in the song? The Elvhen goes to the tune of that. And yes, it is the Elvish Eulogy. DA Wiki ftw!**_

**He Lives In You (The Lion King II: Simba's Pride) – Alistair & Mahariel**

Alistair looked up from where he was prodding the fire uselessly. The witch had sauntered off into the forest, claiming to 'forage for food', though something in Alistair's mind doubted that. Though, Alistair's mind itself was pretty useless at the moment. It was numb, like nothing could penetrate the thick fog of grief and shock that had descended at the woman's words – Duncan was gone. And he wasn't coming back. And Alistair hadn't been there for him when he needed him most.

He looked up, and saw the elf watching him closely. He had noticed that about her; she wasn't one for talking, and even less so with him being human. It seemed she, along with Alistair, hadn't decided if the witch was truly human or not.

He shrugged, trying to act as if the Dalish woman's narrow, unblinking gaze didn't completely unnerve him. "What?" he asked, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably.

"You miss him," came the simple reply.

It took a moment for her words to sink into the fog. "What?" he repeated, stupidly, blinking.

She sighed. "Duncan. You miss him. You wish you'd have been there when he died."

_Oh_. Alistair merely shrugged again. He seemed to be doing that a lot. "Yes," he grunted, looking down the fire again. He didn't really feel like caring and sharing with someone who insisted on calling him some sort of Elven derogatory term. He was sure of it. "What of it?"

Mahariel raised her eyebrows, but continued to stare. "I know I didn't know the man as you did," she explained, slowly. "But I owe him my life. He was a good man. For a shem," she added quickly, as if too much sympathy for a human was inexcusable. Alistair raised his head to throw a quick glance her way, and her brow furrowed. "Listen, Alistair," she hurried on, shuffling closer to him by the fire, "I know what it's like to lose people you care about. Believe me, I do. Why do you think I'm here?"

He didn't know. He hadn't asked, and she hadn't shared. It was sometimes rude to ask Wardens why and how they'd joined. It wasn't often something you chose out of free will. And he informed her as much.

She smiled sadly. "Well – it's a long story, but I lost… someone very close. And I nearly lost myself. But Duncan saved me, and I'm here with Tamlen in my heart. See? If you never forget, those you love cannot die."

Alistair raised his eyebrows. "And how, pray, does that make sense?" He heard the spite in his words, and cringed. He didn't want to seem like that. He appreciated what the girl was trying to do. Maker knows, he'd never have been able to do something like this without stumbling over his words like the village fool.

Mahariel shrugged, looking into the dying embers of the fire. "There's a saying, among the Dalish," she explained. "_Na melana_," she chanted, lightly, "_sahlin emma ir abelas. Na melana, sahlin emma ir abelas_."

Alistair blinked as she turned to look at him. "_Night,_" she breathed. "_And the spirit of life, calling – listen now._" Alistair looked quizzical, and opened his mouth to speak before she held up a hand to quiet him. "_And a voice with the fear of a child answers – oh, listen now._"

She motioned to the sky. "The ancestors watch over us," she described. "Those that are gone will always be with us." He nodded, and turned away, thinking her lesson was over.

"_Wait!_" she gasped, grasping his arm and pulling his gaze back to hers. She watched him with concern in her eyes, and Alistair wondered if she was teaching herself as much as him. "_There's no mountain too great,_" she assured. "_Hear these words and have faith – have faith._"

She laid a small hand on his broad shoulder. She gazed at him, her expression half concerned, half wondrous. Almost maternal. "_He lives in you,_" she whispered, eyes steadily on his own. "_He lives in me. He watches over everything we see._" She squeezed his shoulder, motioning around her. "_Into the water, into the truth – in your reflection, he lives in you._"

She gave his shoulder one final pat, before wandering off into her makeshift tent. Alistair sat, motionless for a moment. He wondered what exactly had just happened, and, more to the point, if he truly believed it. He unsheathed his sword and stared at it for a moment.

_Duncan? _he asked, distantly, in his mind. No reply came.

Maybe that wasn't what she meant.

Alistair smiled, and watched the final flickers of the campfire ebb into glow.

-0-0-0-0-0-

_**Howdy, y'all…**_

_**So, this would have been up waaaay sooner. I had it all written out pretty, and I had a good two or three extras penned as well. And then what happens? Well, exams first, and that busy but they're all done now. What happened then? BOOM, TECHNOLOGY SUCKS.**_

_**I work off an external hard drive, because my laptop's memory is tiny. Everything, and I mean everything, was on that hard drive. And then it stopped working. It's having some sort of existential crisis and doesn't think it has any purpose. I can't remember anything, it doesn't even know its own name. I pity it. Not as much as I pity myself, but I pity it.**_

_**This is, in all honesty, the first time I've convinced myself to write again after losing about three TDD ficlets, the first four chapters of a DA AU I've been writing, and a good handful of random drabbles and oneshots from multiple fandoms that needed editing. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DON'T UPLOAD STRAIGHT AWAY D:**_

_**So, yes, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I'll try and be quicker next time. (I'm saying that a lot lately.)**_

**Next up: Everyone's favourite apostate explains why he doesn't worry.**


	40. Why Should I Worry?

_**I'm giving you guys two ficlets because I'm a lazy sod who doesn't give you regular updates and I feel like a bad writer.**_

_**Here, have some sassy pre-Justice Anders singing Billy Joel! (I should point out that this is another of my favourite Disney songs ever. It's just so happy! And I'm a HUGE Billy J fan. :3)**_

_**I have since realised something HUGE - This is the 40th Chapter! I'd just to like to thank all you guys for coming so far through this with me. The original target was 50 Songs, but who knows? Maybe we'll do more. Thank you so much guys, for all your patience and support. This one's for you!**_

* * *

**Why Should I Worry? (Oliver and Company) – Anders**

The bar was full, as per usual. Sanga watched her girls closely, making sure no one took advantage – and double checked the payments, especially on a busy end of week like this. A series of loud giggles erupted from the corner, and the proprietress rolled her eyes. She didn't pay these girls to sit around swooning. She bustled over, curious as to who had gained their attention so easily when there were customers to be served.

The man didn't look as if he had the means to buy a drink, never mind the sheer volume of women – and men – piled around him. His gold blonde hair was pulled back, strands falling into his eyes like the heroes of those steamy Orlesian books, and an equally gold ring was fastened through one ear. She supposed he was going for the roguish look, especially if the glint in those eyes was anything to go by. The clothes he wore were simple, like a labourer's, but he wore them almost uncomfortably, as if he wore more used to something else.

That was when the man held his fingers aloft and allowed a steady stream of sparks erupt from their tips. His audience gasped and giggled, some in awe, some cautious. Sanga sighed and crossed her arms. This was all she needed. A bloody mage, an apostate one at that, by the looks of him, not even bothering to conceal himself. Well. It wasn't her job to enforce the law. Let the idiot stay. As long as he paid, mind.

Esme, a dark haired girl hanging onto the mage's arm, giggled in his ear. "You're so brave, Anders," she purred. "You must be so scared of the templars finding you here."

The mage, Anders, sighed dramatically. "Well you see, darling," he began, leaning back and sipping his beer, "freedom always has its price. But it's a price I'm not willing to pay. And you know – " he sipped again, before whispering conspiratorially, " – they should be more afraid than I am."

His audience swooned at the show of bravado. Anders grinned above his tankard. "But, you know, it's not all bad. After all, if I were in the tower, I'd never get to spend time with you lovely ladies and gents…" There was general laughter, and the mage raised his mug. "I say, live life as it comes, and never accept what you're told unless there's no other way!" Cheers erupted, and glasses and tankards were raised in glee. The mage downed his beer and grinned, widely. "_One minute I'm in Kinloch Hold,_" he declared, proudly, "_then I'm down on a Denerim Street. From Gwaren to the Bannorn, there's a syncopated beat._"

He looked around, smirking. "_I said, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo,_" he sang, wildly, and the others began to join in with his chants. "_I'm streetwise, I can improvise!_" he boasted.

"_We said whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo!_"

"_I'm street smart – I got free Ferelden heart!_" Anders shrugged, and stood before his audience with an air of ease and showmanship that could have earned him a job there. "_Why should I worry?_" he asked no one in particular, his devil-may-care attitude infectious. "_Why should I care? I may not have a coin, but I got street savoire faire. Why should I worry? Why should I care? It's just a bebopulation, and I got street saviore faire…!_"

The audience cheered and clapped as he bowed, his grin fixed. Ale was flying to the group in the corner, which itself was expanding as more and more patrons flocked to the rambunctious mage's show. "_The rhythm of the city,_" he sighed, wiping his brow theatrically, "_but once you get it down – then you can own this town! You can wear the crown!_"

He pulled Esme to her feet and began dancing her around the room, and people were laughing and clapping and cheering and joining in and Sanga was standing incredulously behind the bar.

"_Why should I worry? Tell me, why should I care?_" shouted the mage, his own carefree merriment proving contagious. "_I may not have a coin, oh, but I got street savoire faire. Why should I worry? Why should I care? It's just a doowopulation, and I got street saviore faire…_"

"_Ev'rything goes, ev'rything works!_" chanted the crowd as the mage spun Esme away into them.

"_They love me at the Princess, they adore me at the Pearl!_" replied Anders, winking devilishly at Sanga, who rolled her eyes, but could not help the smile that tweaked at her lips.

"_Why should I worry?_" came the rousing chorus of the entire bar. "_Why should I care? And even when I cross that line – I got street savoire faire!_"

The mage made his way back to his seat to roof shaking applause and handshakes. He waved cheerily at Sanga, who merely shook her head, smiling.

The young man had just made more money across the bar in a few minutes than she had in a few hours. She wondered, briefly, if the templars really wanted him back that badly. She was sure that magic could come in handy for something.

-0-0-0-0-0-

_**The other suggestion was to have an Alistair/Zevran/Oghren bromance scenario with this song, which I believe was suggested by Apollo Wings. I loved it, and tried it, but happy!Anders was just there in the back of my mind like "WRITE ME CATE, WRITE MEEEEE" and I couldn't deny him. Everything I've written with Anders has been really dramatic and/or depressing so I thought he could do with some lols. :D**_

**Up Next: A young Hawke comforts her siblings by teaching them how to wish.**


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